


Forever Home

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Forever Home [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Curses, Embarrassing Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Paranormal, Science Fair, Semi-Public Nudity, Sex, Stalker, also not in a sexy way, but not in a sexy way, collar and leash, overly attached girlfriend syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 72,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony’s got a company to innovate for, a caffeine habit, and a particularly persistent stalker. He thought getting a big dog might discourage the stalker. He got Bucky, and so much more than he ever bargained for.Bucky killed the wrong man, and now he’s got a year to prove that he’s changed his ways before the werewolf curse consumes his soul as well as his body. He was just looking for a way to get through the year. He wasn’t counting on Tony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scriptatur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scriptatur/gifts), [Feelingsinwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelingsinwinter/gifts), [monobuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/gifts), [journeythroughtherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeythroughtherain/gifts), [MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/gifts).



> Tisfan put out a call for Halloween prompts, and a lot of people requested Bucky/Tony and the prompt “finding a werewolf at a dog shelter”. 27dragons, looking over Tisfan’s shoulder, said, “Oh, that looks fun; I could help write that if you want!” We thought we could do it in maybe 8k. We were only off by a factor of ten...
> 
> So this is our Halloween story that's going to take us most of the way to the New Year to post. Enjoy!

The pet shelter was one of those posh little places, a good sized ground floor repurposed from what had once been a trendy restaurant or maybe a middle-class department store back in the day.

All the cute, comfortable furniture and gently wafting curtains couldn’t disguise the faint smells of animal waste and disinfectant, but there were dozens of cute kittens climbing over a cat tree in one corner and several very relaxed dogs on the furniture. It was the sort of place that offered a cup of coffee while you wait, and had a _companion specialist_ walk a prospective pet owner through the process like it was some sort of dating game.

Not surprisingly, Tony didn’t have time for that.

He marched straight up to the counter, where a young woman was scratching the ears of an orange cat, and announced, “I need the biggest, most vicious-looking animal you’ve got, and I need it now.”

The woman blinked at him in surprise; the cat flattened its ears and while it didn’t exactly hiss at Tony, it looked highly displeased. That didn’t surprise Tony, either. He really didn’t know much about animals at all, except that they were messy, expensive, and needed to be fed. So said Howard at any rate, and thus they’d never had pets at Stark Manor. So, double score for Tony; he was going to get a pet for the first time in his life. Although he suspected getting a huge monster dog wasn’t what most people thought of as a starter pet. Pepper probably would have suggested that he might want to try keeping a plant or goldfish alive before tackling something like a dog.

But the pet part was only one aspect of the equation.

“Um,” she said, and she looked at him, really looked. Tony watched the recognition rise in her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Stark… um, well, we have Bucky, he’s pretty big, but you probably don’t want--”

“No, I absolutely want, what was it? Bucky? That’s not a very guard-dog sort of name, is it? Well, it can be ironic, I guess. Like naming a tiger ‘Spot’ or something. Anyway, yes, big is exactly what I want, and with teeth, lots of teeth, he’s got teeth, right?”

The guy behind the counter shuddered. “You could name this beast Fluffy and I guarantee, people are going to get out of your way. I’ll just get Mr. Stark set up with the paperwork here, while you get him, Daisy.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a baby, Grant. Bucky’s sweet, you just have to know how to talk to him.”

“ _Monster_ ,” Grant mouthed as Daisy headed into the back room.

“That’s perfect, that’s exactly what I need,” Tony agreed. “In that my actual bodyguard has now tackled three innocent people who just happened to walk past me on the assumption that they were the freak who’s been leaving death threats stuck to my door for the last month or so and the last one turned out to be a judge who said that if Happy did it again, he’d see him put away for years, and I can’t afford that kind of lawsuit right now, so I need a monster on a leash to make Happy happy that I’m being protected.” He slipped the paperwork out from under Grant’s hand before it was even completely filled out, took a pen from his jacket pocket, and signed at the bottom with a flourish. “There, you just finish filling that out at your leisure, and I’ll take Bucky and get out of your hair, right?”

Tony wasn’t sure what he expected, something like a mutt crossbreed rottweiler and pitbull from what Grant was describing, or maybe a German Shepherd mixed with a Pomeranian, based on the baby-noises Daisy was making as she brought out the dog.

What he saw wasn’t a _dog_ at all; it was a fucking timberwolf. Mostly black, with a rough mane of thick grey around his neck and one front leg that was silver-grey up to the shoulder. He had blue eyes that were wide as he stared around the room, paws splayed and toenails clicking as he struggled with the linoleum floor. Every cat in the room turned and bolted for the dubious safety of the cat-hideys in the tree.

The beast was at least three and a half feet at the shoulder, and up on hind legs was going to be taller than most people. It looked like it had spent the night in a mudpuddle and the staff had only done a half-hearted job of cleaning him up.

“He’s a rescue,” Daisy told him. “We got him from a routine euthanasia center. They give the owners thirty-six hours to show up, or they put the animals down. Less, if they’re not chipped.” She patted the thick fur at the back of Bucky’s neck and reverted to cooing at the beast. “But he’s a good boy, isn’t him? Him just needs some love.”

Bucky didn’t seem to particularly agree with this sentiment, not doing any of the playful things Tony had seen dogs doing. He was, in fact, glaring and curling his lip at Grant, who was backed up as far as possible, the paperwork in hand. Grant looked like he was sort of wishing he could take refuge in the cat-tree, too.

“This is awesome,” Tony crowed. “Whoever this ‘T’ person is who’s been threatening me, they’re going to take one look and run screaming. This is great, this is perfect.” He held out his hand for Daisy to give him the leash. “We’re going to be the best of pals, I can tell. Huge donation check coming your way, absolutely.”

“Okay,” Daisy said. “Here’s what we’ve been feeding him, and his snacks, and a blanket, he likes his fluffy blankets, him does.”

Tony could have sworn the dog/wolf/monster actually rolled his eyes at the baby voice, but he stuck a huge nose into the bag that Daisy was trying to hand Tony. He yanked out an honest-to-God fluffy baby blanket with a red star on it and started chewing on it.

“Oh, and you should probably know, about this breed--”

“Oh, no, I don’t have time to go over all the details,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Just throw a brochure in the bag and I’ll go over it as soon as I have five minutes to spare. Food and snacks, that should get us through the next couple of hours, right? Right.” He swept the bag out of Daisy’s hand, giving her one of his practiced charming grins.

It was heavier than it looked, and in the instant while he got it situated and turned toward the door, it occurred to him that it was entirely possible that Bucky would fail to follow him, and he had no idea what to do if that was the case, because it looked like Bucky easily outweighed Tony, so dragging the creature was definitely out of the question.

Well, fake it till you make it was practically Tony’s motto, and it had worked out fairly well for him so far (death threats aside, anyhow), so he swept one last quick look around the shelter, tossed off a jaunty wave in Grant’s direction, and headed toward the door.

Bucky waited until the leash was at full stretch, letting Tony attempt to yank once. It almost felt deliberate, like the dog was letting Tony realize just how much bigger than the average mutt Bucky was, before he trotted obediently over to heel as Tony left the pet shelter. Once outside, the dog shook himself all over, spraying a blizzard of dog hair everywhere. He then grabbed the leash with his teeth, giving Tony an upclose look at fangs nearly the size of Tony’s damn fingers, and lightly tugged, pulling Tony around in the other direction.

He took two steps and looked back at Tony with a _what are you waiting for_ look.

“I don’t think you fully understand how this leash thing is supposed to work,” Tony said. But Bucky was still tugging, and those teeth were still enormous, but those blue eyes seemed calm and certain. “All right, fine, but don’t get it into your head that this is going to be a regular occurrence.” He took a step in the direction Bucky was pulling him.

The dog dragged him over to a small Saab, the kind of car a well-to-do hipster might own, in a dark blue. He sniffed at the car a few times, barked once -- and it wasn’t a little polite bark, but a huge, chesty **WOOF** that Tony could swear echoed down the street -- and lifted a leg. He drenched the tiny car in pee. There was enough pee in that dog to make a fireplug jealous.

Bucky scratched a few times at the pavement after he was done, wagging his tail fiercely as the door to the shelter opened and Grant stared in shock. “... my car.”

Bucky didn’t even look back, dragging Tony down the street at somewhat faster than a good walking pace.

“Wow, what’d that guy ever do to you?” Tony asked, half-jogging to keep up. “Jesus, slow down, my legs aren’t as long as yours and I’ve only got two of them.” He tried pulling back on the leash, but Bucky flat-out ignored him, continuing on as if Tony weren’t even there. “Okay, this is not the weirdest thing to happen to me,” Tony sighed. “We are going to eventually get to go back home, right? That’s... that’s a thing I need to do. Preferably soon.”

Bucky dragged him another few blocks, and then came to an abrupt stop at a bright orange food truck shaped like a giant hot dog. He sat down and stared intently at the ordering window, licked his chops once, and continued staring.

“Are you... Are you seriously shitting me right now?” Tony demanded. He looked up at the ordering window, at the startled-looking server staring back at them, and then at Bucky. “You, what, smelled hot dogs from all the way back there and dragged me three blocks for a _snack_?”

Bucky whined. He stuffed his nose in the bag Tony’d practically forgotten he had, tugging the dog food up to the top. He sneezed at it, looked at Tony, looked back at the hot dog vendor. Licked his lips again.

“No, seriously,” Tony said. “You don’t need a hot dog. You can eat your perfectly good dog food, which is _made for dogs_. Look, it’s got all the nutrients you need.” He held up the bag and turned it around to read the panel on the back.

The bag itself was a shade of blue that was reminiscent of lakes and sky in the country and had a wolf on the cover. _Wild Treets_. The contents were advertised as being “for the wild beast in your pet” and contained mostly corn and barley, according to the ingredient list.

“Huh,” Tony said, frowning at the ingredients list. “Biology isn’t my strongest subject, but I’m pretty sure canines are carnivores, mostly. How is this even dog food?” He sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’m a sucker. Congratulations, you figured me out.” He stepped up to the food truck window and pulled a fifty dollar bill from his wallet. “Give me as many hot dogs as that buys,” he said. “One of them with mustard and chili. The rest of them don’t need buns.”

It did not take very long for people with camera phones to start taking pictures of Tony with his new dog. Bucky was a surprisingly neat eater, and did not simply wolf the wieners down. (Tony couldn’t help the pun, and if he was smiling at it, it just made him look like he loved his dog in the pictures that started showing up on Twitter in mere moments.) Bucky ate one at a time, pausing between each dog to sniff at Tony to see if whatever he was eating was better, but then went back to his food.

Finally, satisfied, he sat, and then lay down at Tony’s feet, panting and looking like a mountainous, shaggy rug.

Tony finished his own lunch, tossed the napkin and empty plates into the nearest trash can, and then gave Bucky a raised eyebrow. “Okay, you’ve made your point. Can we go home now?”

Bucky heaved a great sigh and got to his feet. He grabbed the loose end of his leash and brought it over to Tony, waiting for him to take it.

Tony blinked at the animal for a moment. “Guess whoever had you before trained some words into you, huh? Like ‘home’?” He took the leash and then, feeling the gaze of a thousand cell cameras upon him, reached out and scratched at the top of Bucky’s head. “Good boy.”

Tony got about half a second’s warning in the form of a toothy doggy grin before an enormous pink tongue, somewhat larger than a washcloth, darted out of Bucky’s mouth and licked him from chin to temple.

“Ackpth,” Tony sputtered, shoving at Bucky in a futile attempt to push the animal away. “No, no, that’s not, let’s not do that. Doggy hot dog breath, yuck.” He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve until it felt less slimy. “Come on, let’s go.” He took a couple of steps homeward. Once again, Bucky waited until the leash drew taut between them before following.


	2. Chapter 2

They were almost at Stark Tower before Bucky decided _someplace else_ was interesting. He sat all the way down and waited, looking pointedly at Tony, doggy tongue hanging out of his mouth. He whined once, then turned his nose down one of the side streets.

“What? What, seriously? We’re almost _there_.” Tony pointed up toward the top of the tower. “No more hot dogs, I mean it. Come on, it’s--” He pulled, and Bucky leaned back, resisting. Tony slumped, grumbling. “You’re supposed to be _helping_ my image, you know,” he muttered, then sighed. “Fine, let’s go, I don’t know, sniff someone’s butt or something, whatever.” He turned down the side street, letting Bucky lead.

At the corner, Bucky sniffed at a light pole, then the sound that came out of the dog’s throat was chilling and reminded Tony that Bucky probably outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Bucky _snarled_ , teeth showing, lip curling back. There was a startled curse, and the sound of someone’s feet against the pavement.

“Whoa, what the fuck, what did you--” Tony looked around for the retreating person.

Bucky made a soft sound, nudging at Tony’s foot, then tugged him a few feet, grabbed something off the ground with his tongue and dropped it on Tony’s shoe. A grey and black film canister, the sort you actually had to have _developed_.

“What the hell--” Tony shook the can lightly. It sounded like it did indeed have a roll of film in it, and wasn’t just some repurposed can for someone’s pills or spare change. “Who the hell uses film cameras anymore?”

Bucky didn’t seem very interested, now that he’d chased off whoever it was, and Tony had the canister in hand. He sat down near Tony’s heel and waited.

“Yeah, okay, we’ll figure that out later. We can, I dunno, develop the pictures and see if there’s any clues on them. Maybe some way to return them or whatever. You pick the oddest moments to be hostile, you know that?” He tucked the can into his pocket and gestured grandly back toward the building. “Is it okay if we go inside now, your majesty?”

Bucky made a little chuffing sound that reminded Tony of laughter, somehow. He stood up, arched his neck proudly, and all but marched along just ahead of Tony toward the door. The very tip of his tail wagged back and forth.

Tony snorted, but was grateful they were finally heading where he’d been trying to go. He had work to do. They drew some stares as they passed through the lobby, but Tony just smiled blandly and waved as if everything were normal. He herded Bucky into the elevator and tapped the button for the penthouse level.

Bucky sniffed at the elevator keypad, then the floor, then leaned heavily on Tony, practically smushing him into the corner, huge head pushed against Tony’s stomach. When a group of lab techs got in around the fortieth floor, Bucky sat up straight again. He didn’t quite growl, but his ears went back and his posture got a little stiff, which seemed to make the techs a bit nervous.

“That’s… a big dog you got there, Mr. Stark,” one of them said, despite the shushing noises from his cohorts.

Tony grinned. “Yes, he is,” he agreed. He almost assured the techs that Bucky didn’t bite, but he definitely did not know that for certain. “Thought I could use a little extra protection when I’m out and about, you know how it is.”

“We just got a new dog,” the same tech said. “Pomeranian. Oh, lord, the mats that dog gets, have to brush it a lot. You’ve got your work cut out for you, with this guy. Your groomer’s either going to love you or hate you.”

Grooming. That... That was a thing that dogs probably needed, yep. Tony nodded as if he’d already thought of that. “I’ll be sure to tip well,” he said. He was going to have to find a groomer, first. Well, that was what Google was for. Or Pepper.

“Well, if you need vet care--” one of the other techs said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a card, “--my niece just landed a job here, and they could really use some new clients.”

A vet, that was another thing they’d be needing. Tony made another mental note. The rest of the elevator trip passed with the techs talking about dogs -- Tony’s, theirs, their cousin’s, their neighbors’. Everyone seemed to have a dog story. By the time they got out, some twenty floors later, Bucky was obnoxiously yawning, displaying every one of those monster teeth.

“Yeah, me too, buddy,” Tony agreed. “Dog people. What the hell.”

Once they were safely tucked inside Tony’s penthouse, Bucky started shaking his head, flapping his ears around and making his collar jangle, the leash twitching and twisting.

“Well, I can’t take it off if you’re shaking around like that,” Tony scolded. Somewhat to his surprise, Bucky abruptly sat still, looking up at Tony with wide, beseeching eyes.

Or maybe Tony was projecting a little. He huffed at his own imagination, but unclipped the leash from Bucky’s collar.

He started to drop it on the counter, but before he could do more than reach out his arm, Bucky snatched the leash from him and trotted across the floor. “Hey!” Tony protested. “Come back with that! What are you--”

Very deliberately, Bucky held the leash over a trashcan and let it drop. It landed in the bottom, the clip clunking dully against the side of the can.

“Okay, I know it’s hideous cheap polyester,” Tony said, “but I kind of need that if you’re ever going outside again. There’s a leash law in this city, you know.”

Bucky heaved another one of those great sighs, then knocked the trash can over and started poking in it with his paw until he dragged the leash back out. It took him a few tries, a lot of teeth marks on the side of the trash can, and some slobber, but he even got the trashcan back upright and then started mouthing the trash back in. He nosed the leash over near Tony’s feet and whined.

Tony picked it up in a dumb sort of stunned amazement. “You... are not a normal animal,” he told Bucky. “Did you come from a circus or something? Because that is not... I have never had a pet before, but I am pretty certain that is not normal dog behavior. And even less normal wolf behavior, which, again, biology not my strong suit, but you kind of look more like a wolf than a dog to me.”

He tossed the leash onto the counter negligently. “But you’re right, it’s ugly and terrible, and we should get you something nicer as soon as possible.” He pulled out his phone and started texting Pepper. _Dog stuff_ , he sent. _Food - good stuff not crap made from barley. Nice collar, size XL. Matching leash. Toys? Bed? Idk, whatever dogs need. Need ref for a groomer, have one for a vet for you to vet. Have stuff delivered today, before dinner._

He considered the phone, then looked up at Bucky. “Here, try to look sort of friendly,” he said, and snapped a picture. He texted it to Pepper. _Meet Bucky_.

Pepper’s return text was rapid, asked a lot of questions about breed and age that Tony didn't know and ended with “are you sure that's a dog?”

Tony gave up and called her. “No, I’m not sure,” he said as soon as she picked up. “But I can’t publicly acknowledge that I’m pretty sure the pet shelter gave me an unlicensed actualfacts wolf. He’s pretty well-behaved, though. Help me out, here, Pep, just... I need to work on those new specs, and I can’t do that if I’m shopping for squeaky toys and a vet, here.”

Bucky sneezed again and stuck his nose in his bag again. He pulled out his blanket and jumped on Tony's sofa. With a playful little growl, he mauled the blanket some more and kicked one cushion in the floor before getting himself comfy. When the sofa was completely disorganized and probably ruined according to Tony's decorator, the dog looked over at Tony, practically radiating smugness and a _what do you plan to do_ look.

“Yeah, I might take back the well-behaved thing,” Tony said. “Look, please, just--”

“I’m on it, Tony,” Pepper interrupted. “Go do those specs.”

“You are the actual best,” Tony swore. He thumbed the phone off, and pointed it at Bucky. “I am going to go work,” he said. “Try not to destroy any more of my furniture in the meantime.” Bucky just looked back at him. Tony didn’t know what he’d expected. He muttered to himself as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and headed for his workshop.

Bucky made an annoyed sound, got up and heeled, dragging his blanket with him.

“What-- What are you-- Oooookay, you’re... going to follow me? Not sure why, but sure, why not, there’s no way this could possibly go wrong.” Tony imagined Bucky chewing on his delicate prototypes, and then he imagined dog hair and slobber in his materials processors. He winced. “Yeah, fine, whatever, but stay out of the fabrication units. I don’t need that kind of pain in my life.” He pointed at the old, battered sofa that he used for power naps. “That’s a good spot for you,” he suggested.

Bucky hopped up, curled around his blanket, pointed his nose in Tony's direction, and lowered his head into his paws with an attempt to either look cute or well behaved.

“Yeah, I am not fooled,” Tony said as he opened the workstation and called up the schematics. “Save it for Pepper.”

Bucky watched, or napped on and off. Sometimes he made a noise, and once he hopped off the sofa, went all the way over in the corner where he investigated Dum-E and U before scratching vigorously, fur flying.

“Wh-- Aw, come on,” Tony groaned. “That’s going to get all up in their joints and gum up the grease.”

Bucky made another noise and chewed at his shoulder, ignoring Tony entirely. After gnawing on his fur for a while, he huffed a sigh.

Tony glanced back, but since Bucky wasn’t doing anything in particular, Tony went back to his work. Let _Bucky_ be ignored for a change.

Tony got wrapped up in work, the way he always did. Bucky inspected some of Tony's workspace while U made use of his broom and vacuum attachments. Tony got a groove going, brain whirring away and opening more screens to make notes. A few hours passed but eventually Tony came out of his engineering fugue state to Bucky whining almost continuously.

Tony blinked the dance of numbers away from his eyes and focused on Bucky. “What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well?” He stood up and stretched, wincing as his spine crackled. “Oh, I guess that was longer than I thought. What’s up?”

Bucky stuck his tongue out and panted, scratching at the door to the shop. He whined again.

“Yeah, okay, let’s...” Tony pushed open the door and watched Bucky scramble back up into the living area, following at a more sedate pace. When he got there, he found Bucky in the kitchen, propped up on hind legs in front of the sink and nosing at the faucet.

“Oh. Water. Yeah, it’s... been a while, huh?” Tony didn’t cook much, but he had a big pot somewhere that he occasionally used for pasta. He dragged it out and filled it half full of water, then set it on the floor. “There you go. Sorry about that.” He patted Bucky’s shoulder. It had a star-shaped mark on it where the hair was pale and coarser. A scar of some sort, maybe?

Bucky ignored Tony, head already halfway in the pot as he noisily drank.

Just watching him made Tony feel kind of thirsty, too. He opened the fridge and got out a bottle of water for himself. “Sorry about the amenities, too,” he added after a few long gulps. “We’ll get you some decent dishes or something. You probably don’t actually care, do you?”

Bucky finished off the last of the water and then his attention went to the front door, ears perked. He pulled his lip back, and then the doorbell rang.

“Oh, that’s probably the stuff Pepper ordered for you,” Tony said. “Try not to traumatize the nice delivery man.” He felt less stupid than he would have thought, talking to an animal. People talked to their pets all the time, right? Probably? He went and opened the door.

Bucky watched intently until Tony opened the door and signed for the stuff before relaxing. He rolled over on the floor, showing off a fuzzy stomach, looking almost ridiculously cute for a creature that could probably tear someone apart.

“You’re a tragedy,” Tony said, probably far too fondly. He tipped the delivery guy, then hauled several large boxes of stuff into the living room. Food, good. High-quality stuff. Dishes. Had... Had Pepper found dog dishes that matched Tony’s own dishware? What the hell, Pep?

He put the bowls in the kitchen and refilled the one with more water. That was a thing, animals needing water. Then he investigated the other boxes. There was an enormous dog bed, a tasteful dark red. Tony pulled the tags off and dropped it on the floor. “Look, a bed for you!” He reached into the box and pulled out a package. _Chew-Eze_ , it read. It held several long, vaguely bone-shaped items made out of what the package promised was rawhide. “And... something to chew on, that isn’t my furniture. I approve.” Tony pulled one out and offered it for Bucky to sniff at.

Bucky sniffed it a few times, then took it, dropping onto the red bed to start gnawing at it. There were some worrisome crunching noises that came from the toy, like bone splintering, which was a little nerve-wracking. After a few moments of that, Bucky left the toy on the bed. He wandered around the room a few times, poking and sniffing at things, almost delicately. There were a lot of breakable things in his living room, Tony was suddenly noticing, but Bucky didn’t so much as knock anything over. After a while, he discovered the cabinet where Tony’s seldom used TV was hidden tastefully away and pawed at the latch.

“You’re a nosy beast, aren’t you?” Tony observed. “It’s just a TV, nothing exciting hidden in there.” He opened the cabinet to show Bucky that there were no hidden treats in there. “See?”

Bucky nosed at the cabinet again, knocked the remote out and pawed at it. Looked at the remote. Looked up at Tony.

Tony blew out a breath. “You really are not normal,” he accused lightly. He picked up the remote and turned the TV on. “There. Happy?”

Bucky woofed at the television, then dragged his bed over in front of the sofa and laid down on it, watching the show -- something Tony wasn’t really interested in -- with soft, unblinking eyes. He watched for a few minutes, his ears shifting as the characters on the screen talked, before giving Tony more side-eye than really, a dog should be capable of. He woofed again, and looked behind him at the empty sofa.

“Really? You’re... You’re telling me to sit down and watch TV with you.” Tony stared at Bucky. Bucky stared back. “I’m trying to figure out,” Tony said, “exactly where I lost control of this situation.” Bucky looked at the sofa and back at Tony, his ears twitching as the characters on the screen talked some more.

“Ugh, _fine_.” Tony flopped down on the sofa. “You’re very bossy for someone who can’t even talk.”

Bucky snuggled around Tony’s feet. He didn’t, at least, appear to be picky. When Tony changed the channel because the antics of the characters were both ridiculous and badly researched -- no one but hipster nerds actually played video games with joysticks anymore, did CSI writers just not talk to any computer people at all? -- Bucky didn’t protest. Tony finally landed on a classic science fiction movie; that science was even worse, but at least the acting was better, and they settled in to watch.

From time to time, Bucky got up and made a circuit around the room, sometimes staring out the polarized windows at the street below. He drank another bowl of water, deigned to eat a few bites of the somewhat better quality dog food, nudged Tony into eating a bag of chips -- Bucky might have stolen a few of those -- and finally climbed up onto the sofa to put his head in Tony’s lap.

Tony thought about protesting the dog’s presence up on the sofa -- there was a perfectly good dog bed right there! -- but Bucky was warm, and he made a little rumbly not-quite-purring noise when Tony scratched his ears, and Tony decided he really couldn’t be bothered. Bucky was obviously not going to listen to any of Tony’s rules anyway, so why even try?

Tony settled back into the sofa cushions and scratched idly at Bucky’s ears while they watched another movie.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. He woke up a little when Bucky’s head jerked up alertly, just enough to hear the door open and the well-known sound of Pepper’s heels on the floor. She didn’t wake him up the rest of the way, though, and he drifted back down into a doze. A warm, light weight settled over him -- a throw blanket, probably? He couldn’t quite peel his eyes open to check, though, especially after Bucky’s head returned to Tony’s lap.

“Good dog,” he thought he heard Pepper whisper, and then he didn’t register anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute art for last chapter from Monobuu

 

Tony woke up to the sound of low growling. He was still warm, a little overly warm, actually, and his neck and back were not thanking him for the night spent half-sprawled on the sofa. His trousers were absolutely coated with dog hair and his mouth was a little dry.

Bucky was peering through the window, standing up at full stretch, paws against the glass at least seven feet up, and why the hell, Tony wondered, did he not realize how fucking huge his dog was most of the time?

Tony fumbled the blanket off his lap and managed to stand up, cursing and groaning as he stretched stiff and aching muscles. Bucky stayed at the window the whole time, teeth bared and that menacing growl curling out of Bucky’s chest. “Hey, what’s up?” Tony tried, but Bucky ignored him, laser-focused on something down in the street. Tony shuffled closer. “What, is there a cat down there or something?”

Bucky growled again. Then made a sharp yip and lunged. Tony had just enough time to be terrified as those teeth closed-- and then he was unceremoniously dragged away from the window by the back of his pants. Bucky didn't stop pulling until Tony was almost halfway across the room.

“What the fuck!” Tony staggered and stumbled until he caught his balance again. “Not cool!”

Bucky wagged his tail hopefully, looking up. It wasn’t much of a look up, really; the dog’s head was close to level with Tony’s chest. He scootched around until he got his head under Tony’s hand and then sat again, Tony’s fingers splayed across those ears. _**WOOF**_ _!_ Inside the penthouse, Bucky’s chesty bark was really, quite loud.

Tony sighed and scratched Bucky’s ears. “It’s really disconcerting, the way you switch between Cujo and Lassie, you know that, right?” He looked around idly, and his eye fell on the leash. “Oh, hey, you probably need to go for a walk or something, yeah? Want to do that, and then we’ll come back and have breakfast?”

Bucky appeared to consider that for a moment, tipping his head back and forth. Finally, he wagged his tail again, fetched the leash and dropped it in Tony’s outstretched hand. He sat up straight for Tony to clip the leash on, then went to the door and did an impatient little dance that mostly involved tapping his front paws on the tile floor.

Tony huffed out a laugh at Bucky acting so... doglike, and opened the door. “Come on, then.” Bucky led the way out, waited patiently for the elevator to arrive, and then pressed in as soon as the doors opened.

Tony leaned against the elevator wall, amused at the way Bucky insisted on boxing him in, and yawned. “I wonder if dogs can be trained to use toilets,” he mused. “I think I’ve heard that cats can, but I don’t know about dogs.”

The air was a little chilly when they made it outside, and while Bucky wasn’t quite in full-on dragging mode, he did lead the way. Which went straight to one of the nearest parks. He stopped politely to allow people to admire him, although he seemed more eager to let small children stick their hands in his fur -- sometimes to their parents’ dismay -- and yanked Tony past a group of fans and photographers almost rudely. He stopped just next to a small outdoor coffee cafe and thumped his tail against the ground a few times.

“Oh, coffee, thank god. Are you going to wait long enough for me to get some?” Bucky didn’t seem inclined to drag Tony off again immediately, so he got in line and waited to place his order. The barista asked after Bucky’s breed while she scribbled his order on a cup, and Tony admitted he didn’t know for sure.

“He’s gorgeous,” the barista gushed. “I want a dog so bad, but my lease won’t allow it. So after I get off shift, I wander around the park asking to pet people’s dogs.” She grinned a little ruefully. Tony laughed and tucked an extra twenty in the tip jar, then stepped off to the side to wait for his coffee, scratching Bucky’s ears idly.

When the coffee came up, Tony took a sip and sighed happily. “Okay,” he told Bucky, “you get to lead until I’m done with this.”

Bucky walked along, fairly sedately, not forcing Tony to keep up, his coffee unsloshed in his cup. He sniffed at benches, trees, a bike rack. He led Tony over to a sign showing a dog on a leash with the words “Clean up After Your Pet” and underneath, smaller _$100 fine for non-compliance_. Attached to the bottom of the sign was a dispenser offering little baggies. “Oh,” Tony said. “Right, yeah, that’s... a thing.” He tugged a bag out of the dispenser. “Remind me to check the box of stuff for a poop-scoop when we get back. This is just going to be gross.”

When they reached a ridiculously large clump of trees and bushes, Bucky darted behind a bush that was almost as big as he was. The leaves shook for a moment, and quite frankly, the smell that drifted out of the branches was a little ripe. Bucky slunk out from behind the bush a moment later, practically rubbing his belly against the dirt. He positively refused to watch while Tony fumbled with the baggie.

Tony battled with the bush and the bag while trying not to spill his coffee. “Could you have made this more awkward?” he wondered. “What, are you shy?” Task managed (ew), he looked around and spotted a nearby trashcan. “Well, at least I don’t have to carry it around.”

Bucky was seemingly relieved -- and _relieved_ , there were those puns again, and Tony found himself grinning at other people in the park, a real smile, not the ones he reserved for events and press -- and moved away, headed toward a spot where there were a lot of dogs and people throwing balls and frisbees.

A tiny little dog, not quite a purse pooch, but something small and yappy, had slipped its collar, the beleaguered owner quite a ways behind, yelling. The mutt came all the way up to Bucky, full on aggression and growling and fierce, angry barking.

Bucky stopped dead, sat down. He stared at the tiny yappy thing, and then looked at Tony, his huge silver eyes even larger than normal. _Um, what now?_ that expression seemed to say.

Tony looked at the little dog and snorted. “The very definition of biting off more than you can chew,” he told the little thing. “In that my dog could literally eat you in a single bite, if he had the inclination.” The small dog did not seem to even notice Tony, reserving all its fury for Bucky.

Weirdly, Tony felt almost protective, like he wanted to punt this little hairball away from his dog, despite the obvious lack of actual threat. “For pete’s sake, you’re just embarrassing yourself now,” he said. He glanced up toward the yapdog’s owner, finally coming into range. “A+ for ambition. The execution leaves something to be desired.”

The guy scooped up his dog, still barking and growling. “Sorry, sorry, he’s just…” The man looked at his dog and sighed fondly. “Stupid. He’s _stupid_. One of these days. You know, he’s like that tabby cat that sees a lion in the mirror. I really don’t think he knows how small he is.” He struggled one-handed to get the collar back on the dog, who was still acting like King of the Hill.

Bucky yawned, showing off his teeth. Once the smaller dog was secured, he dragged Tony away from the owner, who seemed determined to apologize for the entire ills of the universe. They wandered the park for a little longer, until Tony had tipped the coffee cup up and discovered it was broken (no more coffee came out).

In the meanwhile, Bucky growled at one photographer -- Tony even knew that guy, even if he didn’t remember the name, some idiot lackey of J. Jonah Jameson who liked taking photographs of local celebrities in compromising situations -- and at one woman with red hair who looked vaguely familiar. Maybe they frequented the same coffee shop or something.

He nuzzled children gently, let a man with a WW2 baseball hat pet him and talk Tony’s ear off for at least five minutes, and then slipped the leash a moment to chase a flock of pigeons, sending them scattering. At the last minute, Bucky leaped into the air, clearing a good -- _holy fuck_ , Tony’s math brain did calculations without even thinking about it, and the dog went at least twelve fucking feet into the air -- to grab one of the birds mid-flight.

There was a nasty sounding crunch when Bucky hit the ground and the bird, feathers and all, disappeared.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony groaned. “Is that even legal? What the hell?” Bucky just looked at him smugly. “I guess you don’t need breakfast anymore. Come on, get back over here, you monster.”

Bucky cringed, going all the way down on his belly, and then slunk over to Tony. He whined, tucking his snout against Tony’s thigh.

Oh, great. Now he had guilt. “Oh, come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony sighed. He dug his fingers into the thick fur of Bucky’s mane. “You’re just doing what’s in your nature, I know. It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

Bucky licked Tony’s hand, whined again. He turned his head and chewed at the star-shaped scar on his shoulder again, then appeared to forget all about it, waiting at Tony’s side for him to start walking again, and keeping exactly at Tony’s heel, pacing him as they walked back to the Tower, where Pepper was waiting for him in the lobby with another cup of coffee.

“You made the papers again,” she told him.

Tony grumbled under his breath, though he wasn’t terribly shocked. “What is it this time?” he asked, taking the coffee and gulping down half of it.

Instead of answering, Pepper put the paper down on the nearest table as they walked, spreading it out. Bucky was in the forefront, lip pulled back, showing off teeth the size of kitchen knives. Despite the fierce look on the dog’s features, there was slack in the leash and Tony recognized the scene from the previous evening, when Bucky had run off someone in an alley.

“BAD DOG! Stark, giving up military weapons, sticks to more domestic threats?” the headline ran.

“Huh.” He looked at Bucky, who was sniffing at the paper curiously. “Was that a paparazzi you ran off last night?” He scratched Bucky’s ear. “Good boy. Now I really do want to get this film developed.” He patted his pockets -- yep, the film canister was still there. He handed it to Pepper. “I don’t even know where you go to get film developed these days, but I’m sure you can find somewhere. Make them sign an NDA first, you know the drill.”

“Of course,” Pepper said, and the canister disappeared into her very expensive handbag. She went over the schedule for the next few days, including several meetings that Tony reminded himself to miss. Or maybe he could bring his dog to the one merger thing, that might be fun. “You got some mail from the shelter, via courier. Of course we sent them a generous donation, so it’s probably a thank you. And… _T_ sent you another note. This one made it through the mail room, all the way up to R&D before someone opened the outside package, which originally looked like some white papers from Innotech. I’m having security upgraded in the mail room again. What if this guy stops just sending threatening letters and moves all the way up to sending anthrax samples or something?”

Tony sighed and felt suddenly tired, despite the cup and a half of coffee. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I mean, if he sends something actually dangerous, then he’s putting my people at risk, too.” He smiled humorlessly. “Maybe I should take Bucky down there and let him sniff around.”

Pepper made that motion with her shoulders that wasn’t quite a shrug. “Maybe. Mr. Castle in security has the letter and the photographs that came with it in an evidence bag, waiting for the police again. We probably won’t get any traction there, but at least if something happens, we have all the paperwork in place.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, follow all the forms, go through all the channels,” he agreed. He tugged lightly on Bucky’s ear. “What do you think, you want to go sniff out this deranged asshat and see how he keeps getting past my security team?”

Bucky barked once, that stentorian cry echoing through the entire lobby, making conversation come to a halt as everyone turned around to look.

“That… that is not a normal dog, Tony,” Pepper hissed through her smile. “We’re going to need a vet to _verify_ that he’s not a hundred percent wolf. Half breeds are expensive, but legal.”

“I’m pretty confident the _pet shelter_ wouldn’t have taken in a purebred wolf,” Tony said, very aware of all the eyes on them. “I mean look at him! He’s comfortable with people, he tolerates the collar and leash, he’s a little bossy but pretty well behaved. But if it makes you feel better, set something up.” There were dog breeds that looked very wolfish, he knew. If it came down to it, he could probably bribe the vet to certify Bucky as one of those.

“Okay, Tony,” Pepper said. “I get that you’re attached to your dog, I understand that, even if pegging you as a dog person wasn’t something I ever would have done. I swear, you do that on purpose, just to keep people guessing. Take him down the the mailroom, but get your walking fur coat on a leash out of the public eye for ten minutes while I work spin control on this article. Lucky you, I have the best picture from last night.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at her. “You are not going to release a picture of me sleeping on the sofa with my dog in my lap,” he said. Firmly.

“Oops, my finger slipped,” Pepper told him. “We’ll go over the files from Daniels after lunch.” She turned to the dog. “Make him go to my office at one o’clock, or I’ll put extra vaccines in the veterinarian order.”

“You are the _worst,_ ” Tony complained. “Also, he’s a very smart dog, but I doubt he can read clocks.”

“Take care of him,” Pepper said, still talking to Bucky. “He’s a handful, and he needs like six people looking after him. Sometimes we need a vacation, so we’re all counting on you.” She ruffled Bucky’s fur, and walked off, heels sharp against the floor.

“Stop undermining my authority with my pet!” Tony called after her. She laughed, but didn’t turn back. Tony looked at Bucky. “Not that I have that much authority to begin with. Come on, you heard the boss. Let’s get out of the lobby and go check out the mail room.”


	4. Chapter 4

Frank Castle, head of building security, was a huge man, broad shouldered, dark hair, and a scowl that projected a cone of disapproval in front of him. Standing near the man, Tony was abruptly reminded of the yapdog at the park, barking up at Bucky, and it wasn’t exactly a flattering comparison. He elected to lean against the counter, and look near, but not at, Mr. Castle.

The note and photographs, which were neatly sealed in clear plastic bags like they might be toxic or something, were spread out for Tony’s perusal. The letter was the same block-chop cut from various magazines along with a series of sticky notes based on his security’s analysis of which magazines the various words had come from, in case they were able to find the guy based on his subscriptions.

  


Just a REMINDER!

I have not ForGOTTEN. Your FACE **will** not look so _**pretty**_. Acids _obtained_ any CORNER market.

T

  


The two pictures were both of Tony, in his penthouse. Despite the polarized glass that was supposed to protect his privacy (as well as blocking out early morning rays from the hellstar that people seemed to think was necessary for life on the planet), the image was clear. Tony was shirtless with a glass of single malt pressed to his forehead, using the glass to cool himself. That was probably something he’d done as recently as a few days ago, although for the first time in forever, he’d fallen asleep last night without a nightcap.

The other photo was him pacing around, phone tucked under his ear. Bucky was actually behind him in that one, following him around the room as he spoke with Pepper.

“How the hell is he getting through the polarization?” Tony demanded. He picked up the plastic bag with the note in it and opened it.

“Mr. Stark,” Castle objected.

“I’m not going to get fingerprints on it,” Tony promised. He held out the bag for Bucky. “Here, get a sniff. You smell this guy, you let me know, okay? This one is okay to eat.”

“Mr. Stark,” Castle grumbled, “do you have any idea how long it takes to train up a tracking dog? Even then, they’re not really all that good at it in an urban environment, where millions of people walk down the same street--” He trailed off as Bucky stuck his nose in the bag. Rather than drool, or slobber, or even start chewing the plastic, all of which might have been considered normal behavior, Bucky sniffed a few times, pulled back and opened his mouth, inhaling again, like Tony had seen wine connoisseurs do when they were showing off, using both taste and smell.

Bucky growled at the photographs, then back to the bag, then he stuck his nose in Tony’s pocket.

Where he’d been carrying the film canister.

Bucky barked once.

In the tiny security fish bubble off the side of the mailroom, that sound was almost loud enough for Tony to clap his hands to his ears to protect his hearing.

“Seriously?” Tony said. “The guy you ran off last night? Really?” Tony growled and fished out his phone to text Pepper. _Put a rush on that film developing_.

Castle was rolling his eyes. _Yeah, right, Stark_ , that expression said. Tony was used to people doubting him, and he usually didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. Normal people didn’t condescend or sneer nearly as well as Howard Stark had, so it wasn’t a big deal, but doubting _his dog_? Bucky was absolutely the best, smartest dog in the state. Tony would stake his life on that.

In fact, it occurred to him that he might be doing just that.

“You’re going to take care of me, right, Bucky?” Tony asked, ruffling Bucky’s fur. “You won’t let this jerk come near me.” He grinned at Castle and handed the bag with the note back. “You keep up the good work, but I’m in good paws.”

“F I was you,” Castle said, “I’d get a permit t’ carry concealed. And then _carry_. A vial of acid to the face’s no joke. Wouldn’ want this lunatic t’ get your dog, neither.”

Bucky sneezed at that, as if the whole idea was ridiculous. He’d just eaten a New York City pigeon, what the hell was a vial of acid going to do? Okay, Tony was _definitely_ projecting now.

“I will take that under advisement,” Tony said. See, he could be diplomatic when he wanted. “Let me know if anything else turns up.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” Castle said. He gathered his evidence up again with another dubious look at Tony’s dog, tucking it back into his files, right in the front. Unless that was organized by date, Tony was working with yet another person with a terrible filing system. He sighed.

Bucky, on the other hand, had lost interest in whatever Castle was doing. He took a few sidling sideways steps and nosed at a familiar pink and white box on the staff table. With a soft whine, he put a paw on the table next to the box and gave Tony the puppy eyes again.

“No,” Tony said. “No. Those are the mailroom’s doughnuts, you cannot have any.” Bucky’s sad eyes got, if possible, even _sadder_. “No,” Tony repeated, but he could feel himself weakening.

The dog gave out a put-upon sigh and stepped away from the box, giving it one last look and a pitiful licking of his muzzle before heeling, waiting for their next task.

Tony sighed. “You can have one of mine when we get upstairs,” he promised. “C’mon, let’s go. I don’t usually talk to people or face the sun before my third cup of coffee.”

Bucky followed him. It was almost like having a pony-sized shadow. Bucky tagged along, eating most of whatever was offered to him -- mostly, a fairly sizeable quantity of junk food, as nearly everyone who crossed paths with them seemed willing to part with a bite of their muffins, or whatever they were eating. Followed Tony from the mailroom to R&D, and then up to his seldom-used office. Was quiet and patient while Tony dealt with a wide variety of administrative shit that was outside Pepper’s bailiwick. Paced around with Tony while he talked on the phone. Went to meetings and laid under the table near Tony’s feet.

Snarled only once, and that was at an over-eager software developer who seemed to think their two previous meetings made them close enough for a man-hug. Bucky objected.

Tony was just as grateful for that, honestly. He curled his fingers in Bucky’s collar even though it was laughably obvious that Tony wouldn’t be able to hold Bucky back if Bucky really decided the developer needed to be bitten and said, “Yeah, maybe save the hugging for off hours and actual friends, dude. No one likes it. Don’t make me send you to HR for sensitivity training.”

He was probably imagining how smug Bucky looked as they walked away. Maybe. Tony could get used to having a dog.

On the other hand, immediately after lunch, Bucky blocked the door to Tony’s workshop and stubbornly nudged him toward the elevator instead. “Where are we-- Oh, no, I had plans to skip that meeting,” Tony said. “You’re not allowed to rank Pepper’s orders higher than mine.”

_Bork!_ Slightly less deafening than the barks Tony had heard before, but still, _loud_. Bucky squished himself between Tony and the door, pushing him backward.

“No,” Tony complained. “I do not want to go over the Daniels stuff, I--”

Bucky made a noise that was sort of a cross between a whine and a howl, and Tony was reasonably certain it was audible from at least two floors away. “Oh my god, don’t you dare.”

Bucky shoved at him again. “Ugh. You are the _worst_.” He glared and stomped toward the elevator. Bucky trotted along behind him cheerfully enough and then nosed at the elevator’s buttons, snuffling at them and leaving a trail of dog slobber behind before poking the 58th floor button. He looked up at Tony and barked once.

“Wow, that nose really is sensitive, huh?” Tony punched the button. “You know you’re putting Pepper’s health at risk, here. I’ve never been on time to one of these meetings in my life. She could have a heart attack.”

Pepper was a little shocked, although cardiac arrest didn’t seem to be the risk. What did seem to be at risk was her usual plan of attack, which was to present all the reasonable options, let Tony come in late and suggest a final, whack-job solution, and have the presenter in question turn to her as the voice of reason. Watching Pepper stumble her way through the presentation with her game somewhat thrown off was almost amusing enough to be worth the cost of showing up on time.

Right up until Daniels started his presentation, at which point, mutiny seemed the better option. Could the man be any more boring? And Powerpoint? What the hell? He made a mental note to find some better business solution than that old fossil.

“You’re rambling,” Tony interrupted after fifteen tedious minutes. “Ms. Potts and I both have better things to do with our time. Give me the five minute precis and your top three candidates for next course of action. Ready, go.”

Daniels gulped, looked at Pepper for support, and then down at Bucky, who had suddenly turned not-quite-hostile attention in Daniels’ direction. The man shuffled his papers, pale and shaky, and then gave out a few summary paragraphs, showed one more slide panel from his deck, and closed things off with a project plan that wasn’t _entirely_ unreasonable.

Tony stared at Daniels for another moment anyway, half turning the plan over in his head and half just waiting to see if Daniels would break under the pressure. When he didn’t, Tony nodded and turned to Pepper. “It’ll work. I say go for it. Are we done here? This feels done. I’m going to go do something actually productive now.”

While Daniels was packing up his stuff, Tony left, Bucky at his heel. A moment later, Pepper clattered after him. “What was that, Tony?” she wondered, but she didn’t actually seem mad. Tony knew mad Pepper, he dealt with mad Pepper all the time. She wasn’t even exasperated Pepper. She was more like the Pepper trying to educate him about art, even when she knew he was just going to buy the thing so that the person he didn’t like wouldn’t have it.

“What was what? I got him to distill like thirty slides down to two and an hour-long presentation into five minutes, and it accomplished the same thing that was going to be accomplished anyway, just in less time. That’s supposed to be good, right?”

“It’s gotta be you,” Pepper said, seriously, to Bucky. “I just don’t… Miracle. You should re-name this dog Miracle or something. I mean, look at you, Tony. Up in the morning, walking around, not drinking a whole pot of coffee before lunch. Having lunch, even. It’s good. I’m… very good. Keep it up.”

Pepper patted the dog on the head and kissed Tony’s cheek. “And since I have some actual time now, I think I’ll see if one of the girls downstairs can squeeze me in for a manicure. Thanks, Tony. Bye Bucky.”

Tony watched her go, bemused, then looked at Bucky. “Well, you’ve got Pepper’s approval,” he said. “You should feel proud, she’s not easy to impress.”

Bucky wuffled, smugness practically radiating out of his fur. His tail thudded particularly hard against Tony’s thighs as he wagged it.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way the morning had gone. Tony worked, and Bucky stayed at his side, or at least nearby, the whole time. Bucky insisted on crowding Tony into the corner of the elevator every time, and still didn’t approve of Tony going near the windows if he could help it, but he soaked up every bit of attention from everyone in the Tower who met him.

Tony didn’t want to sleep on the couch again -- it had taken hours for the stiffness to fade -- so after a movie, he gently pushed Bucky’s face off his leg and got up. “I’m going to bed,” he told the dog. “I’ll see you in the--”

Bucky jumped down off the couch and trotted toward the bedroom.

“Uh, no.” Tony said. “No, your bed is out here.” He pointed. “You sleep there. I sleep in there.” Bucky ignored him and jumped up onto Tony’s bed.

“No,” Tony repeated. “No, you’re not-- No, don’t give me those eyes, you know I can’t... Oh my God, you’re so _needy_.” He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bed. “You’re like a big baby.” Bucky’s head dropped on Tony’s chest, a bit harder than absolutely necessary. “Oh, what, now you want pets, too?” Tony snorted, but pushed his fingers into Bucky’s fur. “You’re so spoiled.”

Bucky just snuggled in, let his eyes slip closed, and a few minutes later, Tony followed his example.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony woke up slowly the next morning, his nose buried in thick hair, a warm body draped halfway over his.

“Nng, you’re a real bed hog, you know that?” Tony mumbled. He opened his eyes.

The body laying next to him shifted, a bare leg dragging across Tony’s thighs. “Five more minutes,” he muttered, rolling over just a little to treat Tony to a beautiful face, even if it was topped by some massively impressive bedhead and about three days worth of stubble dotting his chin. He had a full mouth with a lovely upturned top lip, excellent cheekbones, long eyelashes, and the softest expression Tony’d ever seen.

It was a face worth waking up to.

Except Tony had never seen this man before in his _life_.

Tony jolted all the way awake and scrambled back so fast he nearly fell off the bed onto the floor. “Who the fuck are you?!” He looked around quickly -- how the heck had Bucky let this happen? “Bucky!” he called.

The man sat up hurriedly, rolling over. He was entirely naked, body marked here and there with some truly ugly bruising and half-healed cuts and scrapes. He opened wide silver-blue eyes and reached for Tony like he was going to comfort him. “It’s okay, it’s just me, it--”

The man stared down at his hands like he’d never seen them before, holding out both arms and then turning them slowly. “ _Fuck_. Christ, that bitch is laughin’ at me somewhere, I just fuckin’ know it.”

“Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but you’re going to be sorry,” Tony snarled. “ _Bucky!_ ” Damn it, where had his dog gone?

“Stop yellin’ for me, I’m _right here_ ,” the man said. He tipped his head to one side, and then his fingers went up to touch-- a bright red collar at his throat. It hung loose on him, but there was a crease line as if it had been just a little too tight at one point. The rabies shot tag hung down from it, green and glittery, just as had been around Bucky’s neck for the last two days. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m still wearin’ it, ain’t I?”

Tony blinked, and blinked again. He looked at the man’s face, at those wide blue-gray eyes. “What the fuck,” he said weakly. “What the... the _fuck_?”

The man turned the collar around on his throat a few times until he got the buckle around and-- suddenly clutched at his shoulder. At his _left_ shoulder. “Fuck, OW! That-- crap. I… I can’t take it off.” He sighed. “Well, ain’t this a bitch of a situation?”

“Would you mind possibly filling me in on _the SITUATION_?” Tony demanded. His knees were starting to wobble, threatening to give out under him.

“Uh,” the man said, still clasping his shoulder with one hand, “Hi, Tony. I’m Bucky. You, uh, kinda bought me a few days ago, an’ I guess that’s all nice an’ legal.”

“You expect me to believe you’re _my dog?_ ” A very small, very quiet corner of Tony’s mind observed that he was beginning to sound a little shrill. Just a tad. Verging on hysteria, a little bit.

“Wolf,” Bucky said. “I’m not a dog. Werewolf, if you want to be really exacting. I’d say it ain’t my fault, ‘cepting that it _is_. You want proof? Wait ‘til the next full moon. I’m too tired to switch back now.”

“You’re. A werewolf.” Tony stared at the man -- Bucky -- for a long minute, then turned on his heel and marched into the bathroom. He grabbed his bathrobe, then came back into the bedroom and tossed it at Bucky. “I think you’re going to have to back up and start over.”

Bucky eyed the bathrobe, then got up, treating Tony to a full -- if brief -- look at his assets before belting it on. “Start where, I wonder,” he said, as if to himself. “There’s a lot… Stuff that’s happened, an’ stuff I’ve learned since this happened. I’m… uh. James Buchanan Barnes. That’s my legal name. If you look me up, you’ll find I died about three months ago. Officially. Records indicate I was killed during -- well, even that is classified. If I turn up again, I’ll be disavowed, but-- alphabet soup agency. Probably better I not tell you too much about that.”

Tony groped behind him for the chair, not taking his eyes off Bucky for an instant, and sat down before his knees could embarrass him. “Keep going.”

“I’m… I was. A wetwork specialist and intelligence agent. Really, more than you should know, but-- I was tracking a target, under orders. A real bad man; like if there’s an illegal and immoral and downright evil thing, that man had his thumb in it. Wasn’t always the case, really. I’ve been sent to take out targets that were just… politically inconvenient. But this guy? I pulled the trigger and didn’t even have trouble sleeping,” Bucky said. He sat down gingerly on the side of Tony’s bed, like he was trying not to spook Tony any worse.

Tony drew in a careful breath through his nose. “You’re telling me that you’re a werewolf, a spy, and an assassin,” he summarized, “and you want me to be _calm_?”

“Fucked if I know,” Bucky said, exasperated. “I only been at this werewolf gig like three times, an’ it’s not a barrel of fun, I’ll tell ya. And you’re only the second person I’ve told. Given that th’ first one was my-- superior, an’ he tried to have me killed, you’ll excuse me if I ain’t exactly calm, neither.”

“Well, as long as we’re both on the same page, then,” Tony snarked. “So you killed the bad guy, and then what?”

“Uh, apparently there’s witches or sorcerers or somethin’ in the world that I didn’t know nothin’ about, because this bad guy? His sister’s one. An’ apparently it’s a real bad thing, to spill the bloodline. Learned some of this after th’ fact. What I knew at the time was that she came right up to me, bold as brass. Bullets didn’t have any effect on her, neither. She walked right up to me an’ touched me--” Bucky turned and pulled down the shoulder of the robe, showing off a livid red scar, shaped like a star. “Burned that right into me. Said I was cursed for killing her brother, that I was… a parasite. A… plague on the world. A _disease_ , and I needed to be snuffed out.”

“Oooo....kay,” Tony said. The scar on Bucky’s arm was shaped just like the one on Bu-- on the wolf’s leg. That was a lot of trouble to go to for an elaborate prank or... whatever this was.

“She told me that she would be _merciful_ , though. She’d give me a chance to reform. A chance I didn’t give her brother,” Bucky said. “This… this mark burns, whenever I’m about to do something illegal. Or immoral. A warning, I guess. If I… do something… _bad_ , I guess. And so that I can come to terms with the _animal I am_ , she made me this… thing. This _monster_. Right now, I have some control over it. I’m not… quite _human_ anymore. I run on instinct a lot more, but I still think, you know. I’m not a mindless animal, either.”

Tony grunted. “You’d think she would’ve put the mark on her _brother_ ,” he said irrelevantly. “Families are so weird.” He shook it off. “Okay, say I actually believe this -- which, for the record, I’m not sure I do.” Though it would explain so many things about the wolf’s odd behavior. “How the hell did you end up in the animal shelter?”

Bucky actually _blushed_ , ducking his chin and not looking at Tony. “Got drunk right before th’ full moon. Thought maybe if I could keep from gettin’ angry, I wouldn’t… shift. Changed anyway. Someone called animal control on me.”

“And your mark-curse-thing didn’t object to that?”

“Nothin’ illegal about getting drunk,” Bucky said. “An’ I didn’t hurt anyone. S’long as the mark doesn’t bleed, I’m… still good. Nine more months, an’ this’ll be over. And _do not_ make jokes about my time of the month. Fury made those, while he was still in the ‘not believing me’ phase of things. Somewhat before the ‘trying to kill me’ part.”

Tony tipped his head to the side. “What happens in nine months?”

“The witch’ll consider my debt paid, I’m redeemed, and the curse… stops. If I don’t make it-- it gets worse. I become a real monster, a full werewolf. No mind. Lust for human flesh. No desire to keep myself hidden. I’ll be hunted down and slaughtered. Like an animal. Like a monster.” Bucky took a deep breath. “There’s a part of me that thinks she was right. I… there’s only semantics between me and _murderer_.” Bucky’s eyes were wide, luminescent almost, grey-blue and beautiful and full of pain.

Tony waved that away. “Ninety percent of the difference between legal and illegal is _semantics_ ,” he pointed out. “Anyway, if you’re officially dead, then what happens when the curse goes away? Your boss’ll forgive and forget and pretend to, I dunno, rescue you from some prisoner camp or something?”

“No,” Bucky said. “I’m done with that life. I… dunno what happens next. Just tryin’ to get through _now_.” He took a deep breath. “Did you know that commitin’ suicide is illegal? I didn’t. I wonder… how exactly does someone prosecute that?”

Tony spread his hands. “It lets the government get a bigger chunk of your estate than the usual taxes,” he guessed. “Tried it, did you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he decided. “So, yeah, couple days back, I got drunk as hell, musta done somethin’ although really, have you _seen_ me? Walkin’ around somewhere people could see me? Someone called animal control an’ they tranqed the shit outta me, like stuff they dope up fuckin’ elephants with. Woke up at th’ one shelter, and then Daisy came an’ got me. The first place, they were gonna ‘put me to sleep’.” He used finger quotes around it.

“Okay,” Tony said, not because anything _was_ okay, but because he needed to say something. “Okay, so... So you’re not actually a dog. Or a wolf, either, so... How about I give you some clothes, and you can go on your way, and I’ll... tell Pepper the dog wasn’t working out, or--”

“Get acid thrown in your face by a stalker?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s probably a bluff. Most of them are. Not really your problem, though hey, I appreciate the help with the film thing, that’ll hopefully give us some solid leads.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work the way you think,” Bucky started, then chewed at his lip. “I… can’t? There’s… this?” He fingered the collar. “You signed the paperwork. You… uh… own me. I mean, Grant… the… he put _monster_ in the blank, for breed. That’s me. It’s legal. I’m a monster, and you are my owner.”

“Except for how you’re a _person_ , and owning people is definitely illegal,” Tony pointed out. “And monsters have no legal representation because they’re _not supposed to exist_.”

“I _know_ ,” Bucky said, very softly, and he turned his face away, angrily swiping at his cheek. “I still can’t take it off. I guess… I guess you can take me back to the shelter, say it ain’t workin’ out. Then it’s not your problem anymore.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, I can just imagine trying to give a human to the shelter, I’m sure that would go over well. Anyway, I’m not going to do that, I just figured you had, you know, some kind of life you wanted to go back to.”

“Fury-- everything I had, _stuff_ , a house, car, that shit, it’s all gone, impounded, _evidence_. If I tried to get _back to my life_ , I’ll spent the rest of it running. Which is what I was _sort_ of doing, before this happened. Trying to hide, lay low. I don’t… got friends. Not that weren’t in the shop, you know. Half of them have orders to shoot me on sight. The other half answer to the Science and Research division, an’ I imagine they’ll want to put me in a cage an’ stick needles in me for the rest of my life.”

Tony grimaced. “Yeah, that’s a non-starter, got it. Are you saying you’re actually better off as my _pet dog_ than you are on your own?”

“You feed me,” Bucky pointed out. “That’s a hell of a lot better’n-- well, I ain’t a bad hunter on my own, but pigeons are fuckin’ _nasty_. Instinct is so weird, though, I’ll tell ya that much. Walkin’ along, mindin’ my own business and all th’ sudden wolf’s up in my brain sayin’ ‘chase that, eat that, drink here.’”

“Yeah, that sounds... awkward. Uh. How much of you is actually in there, when you’re, y’know, wolfing it up?”

“Enough,” Bucky said. “I remember it all. I got control over my actions. I ain’t gonna bite someone, unless it’s self-defense. Or defense of others. I don’t get th’ excuse that I didn’t know what I was doing. I know exactly what I’m doing. It’s a little less complicated, bein’ a wolf. Little bit weird. I… uh. Kinda like you _a lot_ when I’m a wolf. I can still feel that, a bit. A pull. Want you to like me, take care of me, pet--” Bucky trailed off, as if he suddenly realized what he was saying, that blush spreading down his cheeks to his throat.

Tony was suddenly _very aware_ that he was sitting in his boxers, and that Bucky was in a bathrobe. “Uh. Yeah, okay, I’m, uh. Just going to get dressed.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “And try to figure out how to explain where my dog went.”

“Uh, I… give me some time,” Bucky said. “Or, I suppose, you could do it the fast way. You own a gun?”

“Ex _cuse_ me?”

“I can change,” Bucky said. “On purpose, if I’m strong enough. Or if… I feel threatened. Pointing a gun at me is a damn good way to get me to change in a hurry.”

“I am not going to _point a gun at you_ , are you even _listening_ to yourself right now?” Tony threw up his hands and stomped into his closet to find clothes.

“Then you’ll just have to wait a couple hours, at least,” Bucky said. “I’m pretty weak after the full moon’s over. Changing… takes a lot of energy. Burns a _ton_ of calories. Las’ time, I lost almost thirty pounds, looked like a fuckin’ KimKin’s dieter or somethin’. I do _not_ recommend it.”

“Clothes,” Tony reiterated, because he did not need to be thinking about how fucking gorgeous Bucky was, naked. “And then we’ll have breakfast and figure out some kind of plan.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered as Tony stomped off. Good Christ that man had an ass that wouldn't quit and legs for days and watching him walk away wasn't like a hardship.

This… wasn't how he'd wanted this to happen. The wolf part of him was a piss poor strategist, though. That part had thought he'd be able to wake up in the morning and force himself back into the Change. That Tony would never need to know.

Before now, Bucky hadn't been trying to live wolf, he'd been trying to stay a man whenever he could. His stupid Jiminy Cricket shoulder star apparently had decided that staying in CIA safe houses and using their black ops money was moral enough. He couldn't stay anywhere for more than a few days and he probably couldn't do it forever, but it was doing him okay. Sort of.

It was _hard_ to live in the States without a legal identity and his sources for a new one weren't _legal_ , but it could have been worse. He kept telling himself that. But he couldn't boost a car, or drive without a license. He couldn't steal an ID. Or food.

And apparently his wolf self didn't like being alone and once he got drunk he lost control of some of his self restraint and he went looking for companionship.

He vaguely remembered trying to go to the zoo, thinking they might not notice an extra wolf. And maybe… next month? He'd try to get to Yellowstone park or something. It would depend, he guessed, if hitchhiking was considered illegal or not.

God, fuck that witch.

So so much.

Tony came back out, dressed in jeans that did not at all disguise the perfect curve of his ass, and a t-shirt that, honestly, only served to accent the man’s biceps. Which, speaking of illegal things, they ought to be. How did a rich tech geek get such nice arms?

“Okay, breakfast,” Tony said. “The way I see it, we’ve got two options. We can order in, in which case you’ll have to tell me just how much food you need to make up for your hoodoo trick. Or we can go somewhere with an all you can eat buffet. Either way, the tabloids are going to get wind of the fact that I’m not up here by myself, because left to my own devices, I mostly don’t eat.”

Bucky considered it; risk-to-reward analysis was one of his better skills that didn’t transfer well to his wolf form, annoyingly enough. The wolf wanted food, water, shelter, and comfort, in that order, and risks were just things to be dealt with getting those other things. Wolves were kinda stupid that way, Bucky decided.

“Out might be better’n in,” he decided after a long moment -- the risks of being with Tony Stark in public were getting his photo taken at a bad moment, which might get back to the wrong people, except that he was currently under the protection of Tony Stark, and even the shop guys probably weren’t going to fuck with Tony Stark without a damn good reason. Except it would pin him down effectively, and Tony would probably get tired of having a pet wolf after a while. But out gave him the best opportunity to get away, as well.

In… well, a mystery around Stark Tower would definitely get him the wrong sort of attention. People would start wondering about his mystery lover.

He scratched his chin; usually he went clean-shaven and his hair was long and suffering from a lack of decent barbering. He might not be recognized.

“Out it is!” Tony disappeared back into the closet and came out with a handful of clothes, which he handed to Bucky. “We’ll get you something that fits better later,” he promised. “I’ll just... wait. Out there.” He pointed unnecessarily toward the door that led to the rest of the penthouse, hesitated for one awkward moment, and then left.

Bucky sighed and attempted to fit his overly long self into Tony’s clothes. Yeah, that wasn’t going to be obviously weird or anything. The sweatshirt with the faded MIT logo on it had probably been stolen at some point, or bought in the wrong size, because it mostly fit over his chest, and his wrists only stuck out about an inch and a half, and wasn’t even noticeable if he pushed them up his forearm.

The pants, on the other hand, barely came to mid-calf, and were so tight over Bucky’s thighs that he thought they might explode off him if he sneezed. No drawers, and he winced a little as he had to lay down on the bed to get them zipped. _Christ on a cracker_.

And beach shoes. Yeah, okay, he was rocking the look.

On the other hand, since he’d shapeshifted in the last set of clothes he owned, it was his own damn fault. Not like he could shoplift a set of replacement boots.

Fuck. That. Witch.

Really, death, at this point, might be better than trying for redemption. Bucky was a killer. He had been since he was eighteen damn years old and joined the military for lack of options for a poor kid from Brooklyn.

“Yeah, lookin’ good, Barnes,” he told his reflection. The star on his arm twinged. “What? I can’t even tell a lie?” he demanded of the air. “Seriously, bitch?”

When Bucky stepped out of the bedroom, Tony’s eyes drifted down Bucky’s body and then back up, and Bucky felt his neck heat with the conviction that he could _feel_ that gaze.

“Yeah,” Tony said, and he sounded a little hoarse, “we’re going to have to get you some new clothes right away. I, uh, might have some sweatpants or something, somewhere?”

“‘m covered an’ decent,” Bucky decided as his stomach protested the whole idea. “An’ you can’t carry me if I pass out.”

“Your call,” Tony said. He gestured toward the door. “Come on, I need coffee. So, so much coffee.”

They got to the door, Bucky’s shoulder twinging, and as soon as he tried to cross the threshold, he went down, arm fucking on _fire_. He hit the floor, outside the penthouse and had to scramble backward, awkwardly crabbing on three limbs. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he panted, pain zinging up his spine. “Jesus Christ, woman, WHAT?” His eyes fell on the leash coiled neatly on the table. “Oh, you’re fuckin’ kidding me, _really_?”

Tony came back to the door, brow furrowed with confusion. “Bucky? You-- What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Bucky knew his skin was going as red as the damn collar. “There are _leash laws_ in this city,” he spat between clenched teeth.

“For _dogs_ ,” Tony pointed out. “Which you are definitely _not_.”

“I don’t know where she _is_ to argue semantics with her,” Bucky said. He managed to get to his feet, grabbed the leash. “Here.”

Tony stared down at the leash in his hands for a long few seconds, and then took a deep breath. “Well. I’ve been caught doing kinkier things in public,” he muttered, half under his breath. His eyes flicked back up to meet Bucky’s. “We can still just stay here and order out,” he offered. “This might be a little more than what you were willing to put up with.”

_Doll, you got no idea what I’ll put up with_ , Bucky thought, then-- “Let’s try this,” he said. “Wrap it around your wrist a few times, put the clip in your palm.” When Tony had the leash arranged, Bucky reached out and linked his hand with Tony’s, the clip trapped between them. The agony in his arm immediately faded out.

He stifled an almost sexual moan -- not only was Tony’s hand warm and somehow electric against his own, but the sudden release from pain was pleasure on its own accord. Tony would probably misunderstand, though.

_Or he’d know_ exactly _what you’re thinking, so shut up, monkey brain._

“That worked?” Tony guessed. “Okay. Hope it doesn’t object to you going off-leash once we’re at the restaurant, though, because that would make things way too awkward.” He headed down the hall with Bucky’s hand in his.

“Not that being your homeless bum boyfriend is going to be not-awkward,” Bucky muttered.

“You want to talk about awkward,” Tony said cheerfully as he led them into the elevator, “wait until we have to try to explain _any_ of this to Pepper.”

Bucky didn’t even realize he was doing it, until the leash dropped a few inches as he took up a bodyguard position, unconsciously falling into the habit of protection. It wasn’t usually his job, back with the agency, but he’d done it a few times; to get close to a mark, or to protect one of his higher ups.

The sort of skills that he’d learned in the military, and later with the agency, carried over, even in civilian life, even in his wolf body. He was alert to danger, like when that dumbass photographer had pointed a camera at Tony and started taking pictures. If Bucky had known then… he’d have done more than just chase the guy off.  

With Tony, the wolf-part of him had done it out of _love_. His wolf-self had decided Tony was _pack_. And his pack was in danger.

Tony seemed to take it in stride, though. He gave Bucky an almost amused look. “Whats-his-face isn’t going to throw acid on me in the elevator.”

“I don’t know who he is, but he _hates_ you,” Bucky said. “He’s not playing around. It’s not a bluff. He wants you scared. Since you haven’t been yet, he’s going to step up his game.”

“What makes you so sure?” Tony asked. “So far it’s just been notes and creepy photos.”

“Will it sound really weird to say I can smell it on him?” Bucky didn’t know how to explain it; both the photographer himself, and the creepy note had been drenched in hatred, a throbbing, ugly purple scent, like a muscle bruise. It gave him the chills just thinking about it, that someone could hate so much. The note had smelled like death, like agony, and glee at the thought.

At least when Bucky had killed someone, he’d never taken any joy in it. It was a job, most of the time, and he sometimes believed he was making the world a better place by pulling the trigger. Not a better place for him, mind you, but for _someone_.

“Yes, it would sound exceptionally weird, but I might believe you anyway. It’s not even the third-weirdest thing I’ve heard so far today.” Tony grinned, though it was a little weak.

The restaurant that Tony led him to was only a couple of blocks away, and even without the wolf’s nose, it smelled divine, like bacon and sausage and syrup. Bucky was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to get in, dogs (and monsters) not usually being allowed inside, but he passed without a twinge, and his eye fell on the little sign that read SERVICE ANIMALS WELCOME! He shook his head at that, not even angry, just exasperated. Service monster. Great.

Tony leaned against the hostess’ stand and flirted with the woman there a little, and charmed her into giving them a table in the side of the dining room away from all the windows.

Suppressing the urge to snarl at the woman was harder than he would have thought, and if Bucky had hackles in his human body (his _body_ , it was his, the other one was the loaner!) they might have gone up, looking at the bitch that was admiring his human a little too much.

Bucky grabbed that thought by its tail and yanked it back. Bad enough, the previous day, that he’d _actually growled_ at the sales guy who spent too much time staring at Tony’s butt and had gone in to a hug with the intention of copping a feel. What the hell, was he _jealous_?

“Okay, acid test,” Tony said as he took his seat. He cautiously let go of Bucky’s hand, watching Bucky’s reaction.

Bucky had a hand on his own chair, which seemed okay. He sat down gingerly, gave Tony a thumbs up. So far, so good. The waitress came, took their drink orders, and Bucky managed to order things like tomato juice and a coffee, neither of which would have been very good for his wolf-self. When she perked off again, telling them to help themselves to the buffet, that was when the problems kicked back in.

Tony could get up, but Bucky couldn’t, and once Tony got more than three feet away, Bucky’s shoulder started bothering him again.

“Fuck this noise,” Bucky muttered. “Gimme th’ leash.” He wrapped the handgrip around the back of the chair and clipped the metal buckle to one of his belt loops, in effect, tethering himself to the fucking chair. This was getting more and more like a bad fetish film. Not that Bucky would _mind_ , precisely, being tied to a chair--

Okay, ow, do not get hard in jeans that were that fucking tight. “Urm,” he said awkwardly. “You’ll hafta get my food for me, I guess. Lotsa meat t’ start? Sorry?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, we can make that work. Sorry, we’ll... figure something else out, I guess. Or eat in a lot, I do that anyway when I’m working.” He flashed Bucky a rueful smile. “Be right back.”

He came back with three plates balanced in his hands. Two of them he set in front of Bucky -- bacon and sausage and eggs and ham and what looked like miniature quiches and a couple of doughnuts for good measure -- and dropped the third plate, with a much more mixed variety of smaller portions, at his own place.

“I’ll wear lotsa leather,” Bucky said, “an’ you can join th’ Scene.” He meant that as a joke and wasn’t entirely prepared when Tony choked on a mouthful of something.

He gave Bucky a look that was hard to interpret, and then his mouth curved up on one side. “Bold of you to assume I’m not already,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

It was Bucky’s turn to choke, and he tried to cover it with an extra large gulp of coffee, burning his tongue. _Bye bye dignity_ , he thought, watching the poor thing curl up and die under the table. “Right, uh…” Bucky said. “So… Short-term, mid-term, and long-term plans. Today, this week, this month. Go.”

Tony swallowed his food and wiped his mouth with his napkin, giving Bucky an admiring look. “Nice planning strategy,” he said. “Maybe I should offer you a job as a project manager. Okay, mm, today: We’ll stick close to the Tower. Order you some clothes that actually fit, try to explain this all to Pepper.” He gave Bucky a serious look. “There’s no keeping her in the dark. She manages my whole life.”

“Pepper smells nice,” Bucky said, without thinking about it. She could be part of the pack, Bucky mused, wondering why he wasn’t more panicked. The last time he’d tried to share this with anyone -- admittedly, out of terrified desperation more than anything -- he’d almost gotten killed, almost been forced to kill someone he kinda liked, which would have been bad on more than one level. He should be shaking in his terrible, ugly shoes. Or figuring out an exit strategy.

Instead, he was almost calm, the veriest edge of tension keeping him awake and alert, looking for any show of danger to Tony more than himself.

“Yeah, she does,” Tony agreed, smiling. “It would definitely help with the whole convincing thing if you’re able to demonstrate the shift, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess.” He took another bite of his breakfast, thinking while he chewed. “This week... Hm. You said it’s an energy burn, but how often can you do it? Or how long can you stay switched, lunar cycle notwithstanding? Not going to lie -- a dog, even one that looks like a wolf, is going to be a lot easier to pass through the lens of public scrutiny than a sudden new boyfriend with a leash kink.”

“I don’t… know?” Bucky admitted. “I’ve only been at this werewolf gig for… this was my third moon. I don’t know, the year thing, might be ten more cycles to go? I think I read somewhere there were thirteen moons in a year. I can switch-- except for the three days of the new moon. I’m totally human, then. It ain’t easy, unless I’m scared. Or angry. But I only switched once before on purpose, an’ it was hard as hell. I needed to cross a lot of ground in a short period of time though, an’ boostin’ a car’s illegal.”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin at that, despite everything. Running, just because he wanted to, without getting tired, that was fun. His wolf form could really book it, too, almost fifty miles an hour over uneven terrain.

“Hmm. Okay, so maybe the plan for this week is to find out what your limits are, there, because that may affect long-term planning.”

Bucky nodded his head a few times, shoveled more eggs in his mouth. Sighed. He was going to have to ask, because it was chewing on him, and-- “Why?” He took a gulp of juice, cleared his throat, and elaborated. “Why are you doin’ this? I mean, I know why I am, an’ it’s not jus’ any port in a storm. But… you ain’t gotta do this. No one’s gonna hold you responsible for me or nothin’. This ain’t trouble you need, or that you gotta. You don’t have to take care of me. I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate it, ‘cause I do. And I ain’t sayin’ I won’t work my ass off for you, because I will. I’m jus’... wondering. Why?”

“We exhausted the other viable options,” Tony said. “The... curse -- I can’t believe I’m using that word seriously -- it’s decided you belong to me. Which is bullshit, but whatever, I’m used to playing by rules I don’t particularly like. There’s no one else that you’d rather ‘belong’ to, that I can give you to, and setting you free is not an option. You can’t go back to the shelter, and even if you could, that’s not a reasonable long-term solution. And you can’t live on your own as a human without resources, because you’d eventually be forced to steal something or break some law, and then you’d be stuck. Which, apparently, would make you a danger to yourself and everyone around you, so _that’s_ right out. There’s no other options, really. Not without acting like the self-entitled prick my detractors like to paint me as. Besides--” He poked at his plate, shoving bits of food around. “--I really kind of liked you as a wolf, so... maybe I’ll like you as a person, too?”

“I want you to know--” He took Tony’s hand, unexpectedly by the way Tony’s eyes widened, and he pressed a kiss to Tony’s palm, “--that I am working hard at resisting the urge to lick you right now. Wolf-brain, I guess. You’re a good man, Tony Stark. Maybe--” He shut his mouth, because he was already freaking Tony out enough with just the truth of the situation. He didn’t need to add in his speculations about fate and the probability that he crossed paths with Tony as a channel to redemption.

Tony’s eyes flickered from his hand, still held in Bucky’s, to Bucky’s face, then swept across the room in a quick scan before returning to Bucky’s face. “In all fairness,” Tony said in a low voice, “I should admit your case is helped by the fact that you are just unreasonably hot.” He grinned, and it was a mask, not quite denying Bucky’s assertion that he was good, but an unwillingness to accept it, either. “But I wouldn’t mind if you’d try to convince your wolfish side to tone it down with the licking. My aftershave can’t taste good, and it messes up my look.”

Bucky made a noncommittal sort of noise in his throat, let go of Tony’s hand and turned back to his plate with almost forced interest. He _was_ hungry, he told himself, and it wasn’t a lie. Not _really_. “A’ight,” Bucky said, after finishing off the last sausage. “Another plate like this, some toast, maybe, an’ a nap, and I’ll give switching it up a try.” His muscles didn’t hurt quite as much as they had last time, and he wondered if it was just that he was getting more used to changing, or that, with Tony, he’d felt safe enough that he’d changed back _in his sleep_.

Tony agreeably got Bucky another couple of plates of food, but didn’t restock his own, instead poking at his phone while Bucky made his way through it all. Bucky wasn’t unaware of the way Tony’s eyes drifted up from the phone every so often, looking contemplatively at Bucky when he thought Bucky wasn’t paying attention.

Finally, Bucky managed to make the hollow pit in his stomach feel a little less like he wanted to shove a whole, live cow in it. “A’ight,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Grab this leash an’ let’s get out of here before we push our luck too far.”

“I heard that,” Tony agreed. He dropped a handful of bills on the table, then picked up the leash and wound it around his wrist again, sliding his hand into Bucky’s as if it belonged there. “Come on, let’s go home.”

_Home_. Bucky hadn’t had a home in a long, long time. Not the cool, pristine condo he used to own down in DC, nor any of the housing and accommodations from his time in the military or various agencies. Maybe not since Brooklyn. It would be nice to have one for a while. What the hell, he could fantasize. A little.

He squeezed Tony’s fingers. “You get t’ figure out how t’ tell Pepper,” he said. Hopefully he could pull off a change, although that had its own problems. Like nudity, which was just becoming his lot in life, really.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony didn’t need to look directly at Pepper to know she was giving him her best _Tony is being completely batshit crazy_ look right now. “Look, Pep, I know it sounds completely insane,” he said. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it, too. But it checks out. And there’s no way someone could have broken into my apartment without waking Bucky -- and subsequently me -- up.”

“Forgive me for sounding like one of your interns, Tony, but I think I’m going to have to go with ‘pics, or it didn’t happen’, here,” Pepper said, crossing her arms. Her foot was jiggling, just the tiniest bit. So, she wasn’t just _disbelieving_ , she was moving all the way in to ‘is he a danger to himself or society’ and ‘how hard was it going to be to involuntarily commit him’ territory. Well, maybe. She’d never actually gotten that far in her chain of _Tony is a madman_ logic before.

But werewolves were a pretty hard line to pitch, really.

Proof. Proof would probably be good to have.

Tony turned to look at Bucky. “You think you can do it?”

Bucky grimaced. “Hope so,” he said. He did not bring up his ridiculous suggestion of anyone pointing a gun at him, which was good, because -- first off, Tony didn’t actually have one, and two, what was going to happen if it didn’t work? “Pepper, ma’am, I gotta… erm. Wolves don’t do well with pants. An’ cloth don’t tear as easily as movies make it out to. If you-- erm…”

Pepper turned a shade of pink that really did not go with her hair. She gritted her teeth. “This is an awkward start to what I really want to believe is a con job, Tony.”

“Don’t worry, it gets even more awkward,” Tony said cheerfully. He eyed Bucky. “What if you go in the bathroom to get undressed and come out with a towel around your waist? That should just fall right off when you shift, right? And thus modesty is... kind of... preserved.”

“Right, right,” Bucky agreed rapidly. He vanished for a few minutes into the bathroom.

“Tony, are you  _out of your mind?_ ” Pepper hissed at him.

“I know how it sounds,” Tony assured her. “I spent a good half hour or so convinced I was going crazy, too. But I did the research, and-- look, if it was a con, the story would not be that airtight.”

Bucky in a towel was-- _okay…_ Tony’s brain blanked on adequate metaphors. He had pulled his hair out of the sloppy little bun he had worn. Elastics probably didn’t stay on dogs, either. His bare chest was broad, the six pack led down to a flat belly, a twist of hair below his navel and hips that could loosen lips and sink ships.

Whistling seemed… vaguely inappropriate and that was almost disappointing.

Bucky stood there for a long, long moment, eyes closed, breathing. For no reason that Tony could see, he broke into a sweat, drops prickling up from his skin until he was dripping wet and shaking. “Tony--” He opened his eyes and they were a strange color, reddish irises with a gold rim near the pupil. His teeth, when he opened his mouth, were elongated, the canines decidedly more prominent and his voice was a rough snarl. “Tell me to! You-- you own me, you have to order me t’ do it.”

“What-- what does he mean you _own_ him?” Pepper demanded, her voice a little shrill as she took in the slight changes.

“He means that I went to the animal shelter and bought him. I mean, I bought what I thought was a dog, but it was him, so... Uh, right.” He eyed Bucky. “I wasn’t any good at ordering you around when you were a _wolf_ ,” he pointed out. “What if we just try permission, how’s that, like: You can change shapes if you’re ready, it’s fine, go right ahead.”

Bucky threw back his head, spread his arms, fingers curling into fists, and he quite literally _howled_. The sound that came out of his throat wasn’t remotely human, and there was a tearing, ripping sound that Tony initially thought was the towel, but as Tony watched, Bucky shot up about four inches and his chest rippled, expanded.

The towel fell off, and Pepper squeaked and turned her head, but-- okay, proportionally, the size change might account for some of it, but Bucky was… well, naturally endowed, it seemed. He seemed almost human -- a little hairier, maybe, taller than average, but not even much taller than your average basketball player. The shape of the jaw and nose were a little abnormal, but if Bucky kept his head down, Tony wasn’t sure anyone would notice.

Another howl, another tearing noise, and Bucky shot up like Jack’s beanstalk, a huge, snarling _monster_ of a creature. Hair grew so quickly that Tony thought he could actually hear it pushing its way out of Bucky’s skin. That beast, that was the werewolf, Tony thought, a towering monstrosity, the wolf muzzle distorted and full of more teeth than were reasonable, long claws, oversized legs, massive chest. Huge arms. At least nine feet tall, and its ears were almost brushing Tony’s ceiling. Bucky turned lantern-red eyes on them, narrowing in sudden hunger.

Fuckfuckfuck, Tony’s brain needed a reboot. Whatever the hell that thing was, it wasn’t _Bucky_ at all in there.

Pepper was screaming, pushed back up against the sofa, which slid across the floor and hit the wall, her face etched with terror.

And then--

Bucky howled again, dropped to four limbs and… collapsed in on himself like a supernova, the shape smoothing out, becoming less mutated, less grotesque. And then…

The eyes shifted again, went purple, and then pale blue-grey. The thick hair that covered that skin went fluffy and soft. Bucky sat down, fully wolf again. His mouth dropped open and he panted a few times, then raised his muzzle and howled, a single, sustained note, a mournful cry.

Pepper was still whimpering, her fist pressed up against her mouth, and Bucky made a soft, sad noise, dropped onto his belly and crossed his front paws over his muzzle, looking at them both with huge, puppy eyes.

And that... that was wrong, that wasn’t right. Bucky had done this for them, and if Tony had known at all how awful it was going to be... He shook himself out of his frozen shock and knelt on the floor next to Bucky, already reaching to pet that shaggy fur, to dig his fingers into the mane. “Hey, it’s all right, you’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re good, you’re so good.”

“Ohmygod,” Pepper said. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, oh my _god_.”

Bucky buried his face in Tony’s stomach and yipped several times, like a puppy that someone had stepped on. He whined again, tipping a massive nose up to inspect Tony’s face for something -- fear, disgust, anger -- and didn’t find it. He heaved a sigh, rolled onto his side and panted for air, chest moving like an enormous bellows.

“Yeah, you take a minute,” Tony said. “That looked rough.” He scratched at Bucky’s ears. “Sorry to put you through it. On the plus side, I think she believes us now.” He winked at Bucky, trying for some levity, then glanced back at Pepper. “Pepper, come on, take a couple of deep breaths. Go get some water or something. Then come and say hi. He likes you, it’s fine.”

Pepper actually took her shoes off before she went into the kitchen to get something to drink, and if Tony heard her hitting the bottle of scotch he kept in one pantry for medicinal purposes instead of opening a bottle of water, that was Pepper’s business.

Bucky rested his head on Tony’s thigh, looking up at him with one sad eye. He whined again, then licked Tony’s hand with a great deal of restraint, just a tiny little patch of wetness.

Tony scratched at Bucky’s ears again. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Pep’s tough, she just needs a minute.”

Pepper came back in, scotch bottle in one hand and glass in the other. She took a drink directly out of the bottle and then offered Tony the glass. “You want some?” Pepper looked down at Bucky, who was laying in Tony’s lap and being utterly pathetic. “Good dog,” she managed.

Tony took the glass, allowed himself a sip, and then set it aside. “There you go,” he said encouragingly. “Come on, he’s being so good and still and trying not to freak you out any more, you can come scratch his ears and meet him halfway, right?”

“That was probably the most terrifying experience of my life,” Pepper said, but she squatted down until she could drop onto the floor.

Bucky rolled his eyes and made complain-y noises that Tony was pretty sure should never have come out of a dog’s throat. _Yow yow yoooooow, ow ow yow!_

“Don’t be a baby,” Tony told him. “That _was_ pretty scary for a bit there, you have to make some allowances for that.”

Pepper reached out. Her fingers were shaking, but she managed to get them into the fur around Bucky’s neck. “He’s… so soft,” she said. “How… how is any of that possible, I mean, the laws of conservation of energy aside, I don’t see how… transforming like that wouldn’t rip him to pieces.”

Bucky _yoooooowed_ again in protest.

“Magic, I guess.” Tony grimaced. “I feel like I should atone for that somehow. Recite three Hail Teslas and four Our Lovelaces or something.”

Bucky’s tail thumped a few times on the floor, he snuggled his face against Tony’s thigh again, and closed his eyes.

“Aww,” Pepper said. “I guess that really takes it out of him.” She sighed. “I should have been recording that. What-- are you sure this is a good idea? Keeping him here? Are you safe?”

“Probably safer with him than without him, to be honest,” Tony said. “He’s a good guy, Pep.”

“Under a curse of lycanthropy and forced to obey the law,” Pepper said. “I remain dubious.” She shook her head. “You know, I think I would have been happier with the kinky boyfriend and leash fetish.”

“Well, good, because that’s probably the story we’re going to have to spin,” Tony said. “He obviously can’t change back and forth with much frequency, and I’m pretty sure he’d rather spend the majority of his time in a human shape.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Pepper said. “Check into requirements for service animals or something. Maybe we can lawyer our way around that mark on his arm. If it’s only semantics, a special permit might-- I don’t know, cover unusual situations?”

“Good idea,” Tony agreed. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks.” He ruffled Bucky’s fur. “See? Told you it was a good idea to tell her.”

Bucky thumped his tail on the floor a few times without opening his eyes.

Pepper patted his side again, digging her fingers into the thick fur to the softer undercoat. “Poor thing,” she said. “He’s probably hot; this is a really thick coat to be wearing around all the time. And I can see I’ll need to put some extra vetting into our animal doctor. This is a little more than the ‘physician cares for a celebrity dog and doesn’t give pictures to paparazzi’ levels of security.”

“Yeah, and see if you can find someone who will make house calls. Sensitivity of the situation aside, trying to take Bucky to a clinic might incite panic and riot among the other animals, and also be unnecessarily humiliating for Bucky.” Tony considered the half-dozing wolf on his lap. “With luck, we won’t need to use them often. Just for whatever’s the bare minimum legal necessity. Presumably if he gets sick or injured, we’ll manage just fine with a human doctor.”

Pepper nodded. “I’ll see what I can do about getting him into the system -- at least a corporate ID and debit cards. Do...” She paused to lick thoughtfully at her upper lip, her finger wrapping around the hair behind her ear. She’d make a terrible card player, Tony thought. “Do you want me to set up onsite housing?”

Bucky whined at that, snuggling deeper into Tony’s lap, until his long legs were around Tony’s waist in a canine version of a hug.

“Uh.” Tony hesitated, and Bucky looked up, those eyes liquid and sad. “Your human side might feel differently,” Tony told him, but he didn’t seem moved. “Let’s hold off on that for now,” Tony told Pepper. “I’ll let you know if the situation changes. If it comes to that, I have a guest room up here that never gets used.”

“I’ll get him a phone, too,” Pepper said, “and put my contact information in it. So if you need anything that you don’t feel comfortable asking Tony for, just let me know.”

Bucky twitched his ears at her.

“I’m going to go freak out now in private,” Pepper told them both. She patted Bucky once more and leaned over the huge beast to kiss Tony’s forehead. “Only you would adopt a _werewolf_ from the _animal shelter_.”

“I did promise you that this job was never going to be boring,” Tony told her, grinning. “Thanks, Pep. You’re a life saver.”

“You’re giving me a bonus,” Pepper announced as she got to her feet, grabbed her shoes, and headed out. “It’s very generous, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Ms. Potts.” He looked down at Bucky. “She deserves every penny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw5M-4Fo2wE) is the sort of sound Bucky is making. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Their first attempts at man-wolf communication were hampered entirely by the fact that Bucky’s vision worked differently than a human’s.

He wasn’t colorblind -- not the way most people thought it, anyway. He could see greens and oranges and reds, but most of it all blurred together in a “green patch, grass, trees, bushes” or “sky, buildings, cars” and “moving things, which are usually people or food.”

Bucky’s nose gave him a lot more information, but there wasn’t really a direct correlation between what he could smell and what he could see.

Reading was a thing he could do, if he tried really hard, but his sign reading ability mostly relied on remembering what a sign had said, and corroboration with the little pictures.

Smaller letters, like books and computer screens, were too small. Tony dug around until he found an old box of Scrabble in his closet (filled with the most amazing smells and Bucky really wanted to meet the person who’d helped Tony pack, because they smelled very good and like _pack_ , smart and dangerous all at the same time). But the tiles all blended together, too -- Bucky could tell an I from a W, but that was about the extent of it -- and besides that were hard to manipulate.

Bucky whined and considered eating the Scrabble board, because there was no way to _tell Tony_ why it wasn’t working.

“Okay, okay, it’s not working, I get that,” Tony said. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.” He didn’t bother getting up from the floor where he’d been sitting to organize the Scrabble tiles into piles, just pulled a tablet off the table and started poking at it. “Maybe,” he said after a moment, “it’s too much at once. Something like a decision tree might help. Like this.” He turned the screen around for Bucky to see. It had been divided into four squares, each filled with large text: EAT, PLAY, WALK, REST. “I tried to make them big enough that you can tap them with your nose. I think it’ll work on a capacitive screen. It should, anyway.”

Bucky nosed at the screen. It smelled like Tony, a little like Pepper, with the smell of someone else on it that Bucky didn’t know, hadn’t met. It was funny/weird the way the smells just sort of conjured up images. He had thousands, tens of thousands of smells in his nose-encyclopedia. If he could replicate those, he could paint a picture for Tony. But he couldn’t. He nosed PLAY which was close enough to what they were doing now.

The screen dissolved into two buttons: OUT and IN. “I don’t have a ton of choices in the tree yet,” Tony said, “but we’ll work on it, figure out what you need to tell me most often? I mean, it’s not much better than ‘one bark for yes, two for no’, but it can be a work in progress, that’s fine.”

The most important things, Bucky thought, Tony would never think to put in the tree. Or, at least, they were important enough that Bucky wouldn’t have time to get out a tablet. When he was human again, they needed to work on some sort of signals for things like _get the FUCK away from the window again, you idiot._ Which, at the moment, Bucky was accomplishing by sheer force of will, pushing or dragging his human out of line of sight. Which reminded him -- “T” was due for his evening appearance, if Bucky’s internal clock was right.

That was something else about being an animal that Bucky wondered why no one knew. He had the most terrifyingly precise sense of _when_. The first day he was a wolf and wasn’t being chased around, he’d nearly lost his fucking mind over it. He could feel the planet moving under him, the way the moon was situated, exactly. He didn’t know how to translate that to hours or minutes, not really. But his body knew seasons, it knew directions, it knew… it just knew a lot of things that humans had made devices for.

Bucky wagged his tail, then scrambled up to go peer out the window.

The one alley was empty -- well, not empty empty, but there wasn’t a T shaped lump down there.

He moved down the line, checking--

Oh. There he was. Building across the street, halfway up, a curtain twitched. There was a flash of reflected light. Camera. Bucky growled. He padded away from the window and pawed at the tablet.

The back-button was tiny, but he managed to nose it until he was in a text program of some sort. Ah, there was the stylus. He bit it, very carefully. His teeth really were not designed for this.

**RTY11**

**TYRRRRRRT**

_Fuck_ , this really was not working. He didn’t know how hard to push and keyboard flails were not very clear.

Bucky whined.

“I don’t... I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Tony said. “Try? Is that what you’re spelling?”

**Bork bork.**

Two barks for no. He had to use what he jokingly thought of as his inside voice. Wolf howls could travel up to six or ten _miles,_ they were not designed to be indoor pets.

Bucky knocked over the scrabble box, sending the tiles flying. He pawed at the little easels until they were lined up the way he wanted them.

**T**

Bucky pawed at the floor just below the letter and barked again.

“T?” Tony glanced toward the window, then back at Bucky. “You spotted T?”

**BARK!**

Shit, shit, shit, they probably heard that all the way in the damn lobby. Way to be subtle, Barnes. He hiccuped and something…

_Ow_. What the… what the hell? Bucky whined, shook his head. Whatever, it… he swallowed, panted. He was fine, okay, fine.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go down to Security and...” Tony looked around, patting at his pockets. He looked around again, standing up to look at the floor where he’d been sitting. “Where’d the damn stylus go?”

Bucky considered growling about that, what the fuck did it matter, T was right across the damn street-- oh. Oh, wait.

Bucky yawned. Yeah, okay, his throat felt a little weird, like when he’d eaten a pigeon too fast and the bones splintered in the back of his mouth. But his body was designed to dissolve bones and bits of animal. He wasn’t sure about _plastic_. He whined. Yawned again. Nosed at his belly. Whined.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t eat it.”

Bucky whined, laid down. Covered his nose with his paws. For whatever reason, his wolf-body had decided Tony was the boss. The shame when he disappointed Tony was _overwhelming_. Bucky whined, peering up at Tony with beseeching eyes.

Tony groaned and fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Pep? Yeah, have you made any progress on that vet list yet? It just got a little more urgent.”

“What’s wrong?” Pepper asked. There were sounds around her, and the tap of her heels as she walked away from whatever conversation she’d been involved in. “I’ve got people investigating a guy named Strange. He was apparently a circus vet, until all the animal rights groups got circuses to stop having animal shows, so he’s got more than kittens and guinea pigs on his resume.”

Bucky’s ear flopped over. He wondered if Tony knew how good Bucky’s hearing was. Privacy on a phone conversation was not going to be a thing for him. It felt invasive, and Tony was still looking cross and disapproving. Bucky slunk over to the sofa and stuck his nose, then his whole head, under the sofa cushion. If he couldn’t see Tony, maybe Tony couldn’t see him. Which was ridiculous, the human part of him knew that, but the wolf part felt better as soon as he was in a dark, enclosed space.

“Text me the contact info,” Tony said. “Bucky swallowed my tablet stylus.”

“Right, okay,” Pepper said. “That’s a very… dog thing to do. My sister’s dog had to have surgery after swallowing some socks.”

Bucky nosed further into the sofa. What the hell would that do to him, tranq'ing him up for a surgical procedure, would he stay wolf? Jesus, he was going to _bite_ that witch if he ever saw her again.

“I think it was an accident,” Tony said. “We’re working on ways to communicate when he’s not human.”

“Okay, you should have Strange’s contact information on your phone now. I have to run, give Bucky some pets for me. Poor thing,” Pepper said.

“Yep, will do. Thanks!” The phone beeped as Tony hung up. “Okay, we’re going to-- Bucky? What the... what are you doing over there? Is there something in the couch?”

Bucky pulled himself out of the sofa cushions, which just knocked them onto the floor. He flopped onto the floor, whining, getting as low as possible. _Sorry, sorry, sorry,_ he tried to say, but it just came out as a series of little whiney barks. God, he sounded like a puppy. Or a _cat_.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt or something?” Tony came over and ran his hand lightly down Bucky’s side. “Hang on, we’re going to take care of you.” He kept petting Bucky’s side, dialing his phone one-handed.

Tony didn’t seem mad, just a little anxious. Bucky was mad, mad at himself, because this was effectively distracting Tony from the danger across the street, and Bucky was just stupid, he’d forgotten he had the little thing in his mouth, and-- _idiot. Pay more attention, you’re a man, aincha?_

“Strange Veterinary Consultations,” a professional-sounding voice said. “This is Christine, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi, my, uh, dog swallowed a tablet stylus, and I’m a little worried, so...” Tony’s hand curled in Bucky’s fur.

“Are you currently a client, Mr.--”

Christine talked Tony through the process, getting information and then “--oh, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, your PA called earlier today to get you priority access. Dr. Strange doesn’t usually do housecalls, but the on-call fee was exceptionally generous. He has an opening in his schedule in--” a ruffle of papers “--three hours. I’ll send him right over, will that be sufficient?”

“Yeah, that’s... probably okay, he doesn’t seem to be in pain or anything right now. I’ll, um, have my lawyers send over some NDA paperwork in the meantime. Routine stuff, you understand.”

“Certainly, Mr. Stark,” Christine told him. “We absolutely understand, and Dr. Strange has a deep respect for client privacy.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. They weren’t going to catch “T” today, and if something happened… it was going to be all his fault.

***

Tony wasn’t sure what he expected of the veterinarian, but Dr. Strange was definitely not it. Strange was tall and lean, with sharp eyes and dark hair with graying temples, and wore an aura of authority around him like a cloak. He swept into the apartment as Tony opened the door and immediately focused on Bucky, who was pressed tightly against Tony’s leg. “Is this him?” he asked, pushing past Tony, his focus laser-like in its intensity.

“Yeah,” Tony said, petting Bucky’s head soothingly. “Sorry for the short notice.”

Strange ignored that, crouching down to look at Bucky straight on. “Mr. Stark, are you aware that your dog is, in fact, a wolf?”

“I had some suspicions,” Tony answered vaguely. “Can you help him, or not?”

“Of course,” Strange said. “I’ve worked with wolves and other exotics before.”

Strange held out a hand, not flat like he was offering for Bucky to sniff, but palm out. He made a quick gesture and Bucky backed away, suddenly whining. He grabbed hold of Tony’s pants and started pulling him away, as well, eyes wide and wild.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy, hey, relax, the doc is here to help you,” Tony said, surprised, stumbling back in Bucky’s grip. “C’mon, I know it’s not fun, but it’s going to be okay.” He threw Strange a ‘what can you do?’ sort of rueful shrug. “Strangers make him skittish.”

**BARK! BARK!**

Bucky tugged Tony all the way into a corner, got in front of him, front legs braced and _snarled_.

“Bucky, what the hell?” Tony dropped to one knee and put his hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Hey, it’s all right, what’s the matter?” He glanced toward Strange, who hadn’t moved, was still watching them with those too-sharp eyes.

Bucky snarled again, all of his teeth showing, every line and muscle showing aggression, but under Tony’s hand, he was shaking, shivering, and the angry snarls coming out of his throat were tinged with whining. Bucky wasn’t angry, Tony realized. He was _terrified_.

“Mr. Stark,” Strange said, and he stood slowly, his hands moving gracefully, almost like he was doing Tai Chi or another martial art meditation. “In the interest of full disclosure, are you aware that your wolf is not, in fact, an animal at all?”

Oh. Oh shit. “In the interest of full disclosure,” Tony said carefully, keeping his hand on Bucky, “I did, actually. I’m pretty damned curious about how _you_ know that, though.”

“I’ve picked up a few skills in my day,” Strange said, which wasn’t any sort of explanation. “Most wouldn’t see the differences; they’re very subtle. But I keep my ear to the ground, and there’s a very quiet search going on for a -- excuse the drama of the term -- werewolf assassin. Naturally, an NDA and a very wealthy client with an exotic animal, I felt the need to examine his aura.”

“...Naturally,” Tony said sarcastically. “Look, are you going to help us, or not?”

“Should I?” Strange asked. “Or should I remove the creature--”

Bucky backed up even further, snarls interrupted by whining. **Bark Bark.** Pause. **Bark Bark.**

_No, no._

Tony wrapped his arm around Bucky’s chest. “No,” he said firmly. “Bucky stays right here, with me. Maybe _you_ should be removed.”

“I took an oath to save lives, not to take them,” Strange said, soothingly. “I can certainly aid with medical care. But a lycanthrope is a rare and sometimes very dangerous creature. Mr. Stark, you are a very prominent public figure. Your death at the hands of something supernatural would raise speculation in a world that is trying very hard to remain unremarked. But, since you are already aware, there are treatments I can offer that a more mundane client would never hear about.”

Bucky stopped snarling, but he still kept himself between Strange and Tony. He looked back at Tony, licked at Tony’s hand. Whined once. _Your call, boss._

Tony rolled his eyes at Strange. “He’s been in my house for days, now. If he was going to murder me horribly, he’d have done it already. What kind of treatments? Can you lift the curse entirely?”

“It’s not one of my abilities,” Strange said, shaking his head. “Witchcraft is an entirely separate… well, you probably don’t care about the technicalities of the matter, but a curse… if I was there at the time it was cast, I might have been able to mitigate the damage, or if and when the conditions are met, some mystical alterations. Consider --” The man made a face as if having to explain particle physics to children. “-- the fairies in Sleeping Beauty. At the time the curse was cast, one was able to alter the form the curse took, after Maleficent made her decree. But, once a curse is cast, the conditions _must be met_. Not even the witch or warlock who issued the curse can remove it. The sort of power it takes to remove a curse… well, let’s just say those are beings you do not wish to deal with.”

“Oh.” Tony wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Bucky was probably disappointed, but Tony had grown to like Bucky’s wolf form. “Okay, so, how about the tablet stylus he accidentally swallowed? Can you do anything about that?”

“Certainly-- without even surgery, if he will consent to lay down, and not try to bite me. It might look… a little _strange_.”

Bucky whined, nuzzling at Tony’s stomach again, pressing his forehead against Tony’s sternum, like he was drawing strength from hearing Tony’s heartbeat or something.

“Give us a second, here.” Tony scrubbed his knuckles across Bucky’s head and lowered his voice. “I think we can trust him, but if you really don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. Okay? But you’re probably stuck as a wolf for a while, then, because if you change with that thing inside you, it might rupture something. So help me out, here.”

Bucky gave him sad puppy eyes, heaved a sigh and flopped over on the floor. He nosed at Tony’s wrist, whining, then laid his head down on Tony’s foot and closed his eyes.

“So brave,” Tony said, and scratched gently at Bucky’s ears. “Okay,” he told Strange. “Do your thing.”

Strange sat down near Bucky, putting his hands together, fingers crooked and scarred. He made a gesture. Tony couldn’t say how it looked mystical, except that it _did_.

For just a moment, Strange seemed extra solid, like he was more real than anything in the room. He moved, and at the same time, he didn’t, like a double-exposed image. “Do not move,” he said, and then one arm reached _through_ Bucky’s skin as if one, or the other, had become ghosts.

One of Strange still sat there, arms in front of his heart. The other leaned forward, groping around in Bucky’s inside. “Got it. Hold him still, Mr. Stark, this will feel a little uncomfortable.”

Tony grunted. How the fuck he was supposed to hold Bucky still when Bucky outmassed him by a solid fifty pounds was anyone’s guess, but he did his best, leaning against Bucky’s shoulder with one hand and scratching Bucky’s ears and chin with the other, murmuring a constant stream of encouragement and praise. “That’s it, that’s right, just hold still a little longer, you’re doing so well...”

Strange twisted the arm that was plunged into Bucky’s midsection, which made Bucky twitch, and then there was the most sickening sound, like jello hitting the floor, or entrails being dumped onto a slaughter room, or something, oh, god, Tony thought he was going to be ill. Bucky whimpered, and then…

Strange solidified again, the stylus clasped in his hand. He blinked a few times, and settled into his body. “There we go. Easy does it.”

Bucky made the softest bark Tony had ever heard out of him. _Bark bark_. No.

“I know, I know, that was awful,” Tony soothed, “but it’s all done now, I promise.” He stroked at Bucky’s fur. “You just rest, you’re okay.”

Strange looked down at the stylus. “You. um, probably don’t want this anymore. Is there someplace I might wash my hands?”

Tony jerked his chin. “Kitchen’s that way. There’s a trash can, too.” He watched Strange stand up, still oddly graceful, and head in that direction. “Hey,” he whispered to Bucky, “hey, it’s done now, okay? You all right?”

Bucky thumped his tail on the floor a few times. He licked Tony’s fingers a few times, then heaved himself to his feet. He padded over to the window and peered out. Sighed. **Bark bark**.

“We lost T, huh?” Tony got up and went over to look out the window as well, though he had no idea what he was looking for. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of people in the surrounding buildings and streets.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, for a remarkable evening,” Strange said, coming back into the room. “Consider me on call for any… situations that might come about. And consultation, now that you’ve brushed against the mystical world, you might find yourself deeper and in need of advice or protective spells.”

“I will do that,” Tony promised. He offered Strange his hand. “Thanks for coming out on short notice. And for not... overreacting.”

Strange’s fingers were gnarled and twisted, like he had the hands of an old, old man, and there was a deep tremor in his wrists as he touched Tony’s hand briefly. “My pleasure.” He gave Bucky a little bow. “Go in peace.”

With that, the man swirled out of the room and was gone.

Tony watched the closed door for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. When it proved impossible, he flopped onto the sofa with a loud sigh. “Well, that was... something.”

It took Bucky all of point six seconds to abandon his position at the window and flop on the sofa with Tony. It was barely dinner time, but Tony was already exhausted. He buried his fingers in Bucky’s thick fur, feeling better just having the wolf near. “Let’s take the rest of the evening off, huh?”

Bucky wuffed once.

_Yes_.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony woke up the next morning with a wolf, rather than a man. For a long moment, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, relieved or disappointed or just… Bucky was Bucky, Tony decided at last, no matter which form he was in. Sweet and loyal and playful and protective.

Bucky woke up the instant Tony did, despite the fact that Tony didn’t open his eyes or move or anything. He started nuzzling at Tony’s hand, licking Tony’s fingers, and when that didn’t get a reaction, he squeezed under the blanket, all two hundred odd pounds of him, and found Tony’s toes, which got the same treatment.

Tony, slower to wake up than Bucky, made a face and pulled his knees up. “Stoppit,” he whined. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Bucky stuck a cold nose on the back of Tony’s knee. _Wuff!_ He pulled himself out from under the blanket, which had the effect of pulling all the covers off Tony as well, and the whole mess of bedding, wolf, and all but one pillow ended up on the floor.

There went any hope of extra sleep. Tony cracked an eyelid, and was unable to suppress a snort of laughter at the sight of Bucky on the floor, tangled in the blankets. “You’re a mess,” he said affectionately. He yawned and stretched. “All right, all right, I’m getting up.”

He stumbled into the bathroom, managed to wake up enough to brush his teeth, and then shuffled back out to get clothes.

There was a thump from the kitchen, the worrying sound of dishes being rattled around, another thump, paws against linoleum, a bark that sounded frustrated -- how did barking sound frustrated, was Tony projecting or was Bucky just getting better at conveying emotion? -- another thump. Okay, that was definitely something hitting the floor and rolling around. What the hell even was Bucky doing out there?

And then the smell of coffee wafted toward him from the kitchen.

How the hell... Tony made for the kitchen, still pulling on his shirt. He found Bucky sitting in the center of the floor, tail thumping proudly. The Keurig was spitting out a stream of coffee into a mug. A handful of K-cups littered the counter and floor, several of them with obvious tooth marks in them.

“You... made coffee,” Tony said. He scooped up the mug the instant the last bit of coffee dribbled out and took a gulp. “Best dog ever.”

Bucky’s tail was going a mile a minute. He drank most of his water dish dry, ate a few bites of the dog food with obviously less enthusiasm than he’d attacked breakfast in his human form, but after a few minutes, there wasn’t any of that left, either. He waited until Tony finished his mug of coffee and then went to fetch the leash and waited by the door.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s... a thing that should happen.” Tony rooted around in the box of stuff until he found the poop-scoop, clipped the leash to Bucky’s collar, and opened the door. “Seriously, have a talk with your wolfy side about learning to use the toilet.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and dragged Tony off to the elevator and out to the park.

A few people that Tony had seen that first morning waved to him. The coffee girl beamed, delighted, and brought Bucky a dog treat shaped like a tiny bone cookie. “We were hoping to see you again, Mr. Stark,” she said, burying her fingers in Bucky’s fur. “You two stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.” Tony grinned and winked before leading Bucky further into the park. He kept an eye out for murderous balls of lint and sipped his coffee while waiting for Bucky to decide on a suitable bush.

Bucky finally decided on a good location, dragging Tony around in a circle until he was facing into the park, before sidling around the tree. Which meant it was, at least, easier to get to the mess, even if Bucky was still being shy. It was sort of cute, and at the same time, Tony could totally understand. He wasn’t sure he really wanted someone else watching him take a dump, either. He’d had one girlfriend, back in the day, who insisted on talking to him while he was in the bathroom, and that had been weird enough.

So he waited and watched the other people wandering in the park while Bucky did his business. The poop scoop was a marvelous invention and made cleanup much easier and less awful. Tony hoped whoever invented the thing had made a bundle on it.

“Okay to head back?” he asked Bucky. “Let’s skip the pigeon appetizer today, huh?”

Bucky barked once, that huge, chesty woof that got everyone’s attention, but Tony had been in any number of spotlights before and attention didn’t particularly bother him. He waved, grinning and then Bucky jumped up on his hind legs, planting his front paws on Tony’s shoulders, looking down at him from all nine feet or so. There were those teeth again, too, but Tony’d never felt safer. Bucky laid his chin on the top of Tony’s head, like a hug, and peered around at the crowd, who all suddenly seemed to have something better to do.

Bucky wuffed and got down, leading Tony back to the Tower at a sedate pace.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Tony said, but it came out far more fond than exasperated.

When they got back to the penthouse, it was to find Pepper waiting for him, a sheaf of papers in her hand and her most serious-and-worried expression on. “What happened?”

“I got your photos back from the developer,” she said. “He’s got some interesting theories -- you remember Parker, from the intern program. He has a darkroom for personal use, and has already been thoroughly vetted. Some fancy new camera. In the meanwhile, I’m glad we got our hands on these before your admirer could have them developed.”

Tony winced but held his hand out for the photos. “Okay, let’s see the damage.” He dropped them on the table and spread them out.

And then immediately wished he hadn’t. They were mostly of Tony, taken while he was at home in the penthouse. A couple of them were nudes. There were pictures of Pepper and Happy, too, though thankfully fully clothed. But still, it was excessively creepy. “Okay, now this guy’s really starting to piss me off.”

Bucky put his paws up to get a better look, whined. One massive front paw came down over one of the nude pictures, blocking out Tony from the waist down.

“Oh, honey, it’s too late for that,” Pepper said with a sigh. “Everyone with access to the Internet has seen Tony’s business.”

Bucky growled, although at the pictures, and not at Pepper. He nosed at another one, and then another one. Tony going about his daily business, Tony leaving the building, Tony getting in a car. Nothing, on its own, that would be sinister, except for the obsession behind it, the recording of the daily movements, how intrusive and pervasive it was.

“All right,” Pepper said. “Parker’s left a number to call him, after he gets out from class this afternoon. Three fifteen, and then band practice starts at five, so you have a window there.”

“Right.” Tony thumbed his phone on and added a reminder to it. He looked at the pictures again and sighed. “I assume we’ve got the negatives under lock and key. Someone get copies of the pics to our police file. Anything else?”

“Dr. Strange sent you an impressively padded bill for a so-called Astral Removal. I wanted to make certain you want me to pay this, before I do,” Pepper said, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, whatever he wants, pay it,” Tony agreed. “He’s... got an impressive skillset. And he knows what Bucky is.”

“This job just keeps getting weirder,” Pepper said, but it didn’t sound like a complaint. “All right, your schedule’s light today, a few things that need your print, I’ve already read them if you don’t want to. Two meetings, feel free to arrange for an interruption for the 1 o’clock. No one wants to talk to the guy anyway. Senator Stern wants you to call, you can probably ignore him, too. There are some questions on those specs from R&D, something about tensile strength. Oh, and you need a date for the Foundation Ball. I know you haven’t been seeing anyone; do you want me to set something up?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed. “When is that?” He looked at his calendar app. “Two weeks. Do we already have the appointments with the tailor and stylist in place?”

“Of course,” Pepper said.

Bucky made another low, snarling noise, leaning heavily on Tony’s legs.

Tony scratched Bucky’s neck absently. “Maybe you can come, too, if we can push through the service animal thing in time.”

Pepper finished getting his life arranged in her typical manner, giving notes, advice, little snippets of information, the way she always did. Tony wasn’t sure he could manage without her. She reminded him that Rhodey was due back for some leave in the next week, and to leave some time open for his best friend, that Happy would be back from his mandatory safety refresher course day after tomorrow, and gave him a packet of information from the animal shelter. Bucky snarled at it, chewed up the brochure and spit the pieces in the trashcan with obvious distaste.

Tony watched that little display with a raised eyebrow, trying to suppress his amusement. “Really? What if I needed that information? Let me guess: Grant packed it.”

**Bark!**

“Well, I suppose that’s some improvement on the communication issue,” Pepper said. She waggled a finger in Bucky’s direction. “Do not terrify Peter Parker if you happen to see him, he’s a good kid. Very smart. No one likes Senator Stern, but you shouldn’t bite him. And Colonel Rhodes will kick either of your asses if he thinks you’re bad news, so be nice to him, too.”

Bucky gave her his full attention, and then his mouth dropped open and that pink tongue darted out.

“Yes, you may lick Rhodey,” Tony said gleefully. “I fully encourage this behavior. He’ll find it charming.”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Pepper remarked, but didn’t protest. She gathered up her files and headed out again.

***

Despite Midtown Tech being nearly eight miles away, and midday traffic that was never what one would call light, Peter Parker badged in to Stark Tower a little past three thirty. For a teenage boy who'd completed a summer Stark internship, he looked remarkably like a puppy when Tony had him ushered into his office.

“Mr. Stark,” he bubbled, “it's so good to see you again, I uh wasn't sure if… I mean, see you, you know, in person, and with pants, that's good too, because those pictures were severely lacking in the pants department. Pants, I approve. I mean not that you need me to-- Oh! Should I tell you about the camera? I should, shouldn't I?”

“Take a deep breath, kid,” Tony advised. “Okay? Okay. Tell me about the camera.”

“So uh… like there's some guys at MIT who made a spatial light modulator camera. Like it can see around corners and stuff. But only if the door is open. And it's huge. You can't really carry it around, but it can rebuild an image even with only a single point of light reference. Cool, right?” Peter glanced at Bucky, who was trying to look small and harmless and succeeding not at all. “But, not very practical yet. Certainly not for any consumer usage.”

“Could it see through polarization? Like polarized windows?” Tony asked. He flicked open a tab on his computer and opened the MIT page.

“Well, probably,” Peter said. “but see the thing is, their designs were… improved on by these Israeli engineers and they've got the thing down to a handheld device.” He glanced at Bucky again, like Tony was going to be mad that someone improved on a schematic from MIT and sic the dog on him or something. Where did people get their notions sometimes? Science didn't care about borders.

“And, well… one of those prototypes was stolen recently,” Peter finished. “They might have rebuilt it by now… or would let you look at it. They have really tight security now on their systems. I've. Might have heard that.”

“No hacking using SI resources,” Tony said sternly. “Though I’m less interested in the camera itself than in how to track down who stole that prototype. Unless there’s a reasonably easy way to block it.” He tapped through the MIT screens until he found a puff article on the original camera. “I’ll stretch my MIT contacts here. You send me what you’ve got on the Israeli team; I’ll see if I can dig someone out of my network who knows someone who knows someone.” He gave Peter a grin and a thumbs-up. “Good work, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I uh… just want you to know I didn't. Like. Look at those pictures. That Ms. Potts had me develop. Any more than I had to. But I, you know, hope you find the guy. I'll let you know if I find anything else out on my end.”

“You do that. And thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the camera](https://www.extremetech.com/extreme/132837-the-%20camera-that-can-see-through-frosted-glass-and-skin-and-around-corners) that Peter’s talking about, though we've slightly upteched it for the purposes of plot.


	10. Chapter 10

Dr. Ori Katz was a thin man who couldn’t seem to stay in front of his web camera long enough for Tony to get a really good look at him. He ducked, grabbed files, and refilled his coffee cup twice in the amount of time it took Tony to explain who he was and what he wanted.

In front of _Tony_ were the files that Peter had hacked from the Jerusalem police, detailing what was known about the theft. Most of it was useless, but there were a few blurry pictures of the thieves. They didn’t have any solid leads, though. What little they’d uncovered put the blame squarely on “unknown foreigners with unknown motives.”

“That project was closed down after the paper was published, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Katz said. “We managed to recover with off-site storage of the device and the remaining schematics. I’m trying to locate the files you requested, but--” He waved a handful of manila folders at his camera. “--as you can see--”

Bucky made a grumbling noise from near Tony’s feet, like he couldn’t even be bothered to poke his nose at the scientist.

“Yes, I completely understand,” Tony said, though he didn’t. His own files -- even the physical ones -- were meticulously organized and backed up, and he could put his hands on even decades-dormant projects within a matter of hours. But not everyone had a Pepper. Or anything like an organizational scheme. “Someone using a camera very much like yours has been using it to spy on me, so you can understand why I feel rather urgent about the matter.”

“It was a concern,” Dr. Katz admitted, “but the camera was not meant for the modern consumer. It was designed for military operations and safety. Ah! Here, I have it.” He waved a file triumphantly. “As you see--” He started scanning in the documents, and shortly thereafter they started spitting out on Tony’s end. “--several methods can be used to block the camera, including walls of certain thicknesses, which may be impractical for a residential building. My colleague, Dr. Small, experimented with a -- forgive the term -- prism glitter that might be embedded in glass, to confuse and distort the image. It was deemed too costly to be a concern for implementation of the camera for use in government activities, although I believe several private citizens in the know about the project invested in the glass for their homes.”

Tony took the pages off his printer and eyed the specifications. “Okay, this is good, this will give me something to work with, anyway,” Tony said. “Thank you, Dr. Katz, you’ve been most helpful.”

“Of course,” Dr. Katz said, raising his coffee mug in a salute. “How many scientists can say they assisted the great Tony Stark?”

Bucky huffed, tail thumping a few times against the wheels on Tony’s stool. Given that they’d spent almost thirty minutes on the call for two minutes worth of useful information, Tony decided Bucky was probably rejoicing the end of the call. Or he needed to go for a walk.

Tony exchanged a few more polite pleasantries, then disconnected the call. He looked down at the pages in his hand. “Well, this should get us somewhere,” he mused, brain already pinging off ideas and flagging the easiest to start with.

Bucky got to his feet and shook himself off. He wuffed, soft and light. It had only taken one bad experience with DUM-E and his deciding that Buck’s barking meant something was on fire for Bucky to learn to use his inside barks in the workshop. He pushed against Tony’s chair a few times, trotted over to the door and waited.

Perhaps not as patient as Tony would have preferred, but those excited, dancing paws and the tail wagging was sufficient encouragement to get Tony out of his chair.

“Okay, okay,” Tony agreed. He carefully saved the files from Dr. Katz and stood up to follow Bucky. They _had_ been stuffed in the workshop for a while, he supposed. It couldn’t hurt to go out and stretch their legs a little.

Bucky bounced and barked happily, forgetting to use his inside bark and then hiding behind Tony’s legs as DUM-E grabbed the fire extinguisher.

“Ah-ah, no!” Tony told DUM-E. “Nothing is on fire!” DUM-E waved the fire extinguisher around some more. “I am going to dismantle you and turn you into a garage door opener,” Tony threatened idly. “Put it back, go clean up, do something actually useful for a change.” He reached around his leg to pat Bucky awkwardly. “Crisis averted. Come on, let’s go get some coffee or something.”

***

Bucky sighed. While he could still read a human clock, he didn’t bother. It could be three in the morning or four in the morning; the answer was the same. Tony needed to stop poking his fabricator and design specs and go to bed.

Pepper had told him privately that Tony was nearly impossible to control while in an engineering fugue, but usually when Bucky whined or tried to get Tony’s attention, he would look up and they could go eat or go for a walk or something.

Not that day.

Bucky was sulking on the sofa that he’d pretty much claimed as his personal territory inside the ‘shop and watching Tony. Surrounded by dancing blue and yellow screens, he was like some high tech wizard, constantly tweaking some alchemic recipe for the precise results.

Either that, or he was summoning a demon.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure.

He was muttering under his breath, and while Bucky’s ears were plenty good enough to catch it all, it still sounded like some kind of magical incantation, for all the sense it made. It was like Tony was talking to himself in some kind of code.

Every once in a while he would fall silent, and Bucky would sit up, hopeful, but Tony would just stare intently at his screens and scratch idly at his face while he studied some equation or diagram. Then it would start up again. “All right, if that’s not going to work, then let’s try increasing the angle of deflection and tossing some gamma-four inhibitor in the crystal structure...” And Bucky would sigh and lie back down.

It was well past dinnertime and bedtime and even lay awake at night and stare at the ceiling time when Bucky heard footsteps where they shouldn’t be. Not Pepper’s; he knew her smell and stride. Nor was it Happy, Tony’s driver and bodyguard, who had been less than thrilled about Bucky’s usurpation of half of his job.

Bucky jumped down from the sofa and snarled, hackles rising. It also probably wasn’t T, but beyond that, it could have been any stranger. And there was certainly no reason for a stranger to be anywhere close to Tony. Not here, not now.

“Hmm, okay, that looks like a step in the right direction,” Tony mumbled. “If I can just figure out how to keep from interrupting the--” Belatedly, he hesitated and glanced at Bucky, then looked toward the door.

One paw at a time, Bucky crept toward the door, the snarls going silent. He’d already had the instincts of a hunter, but becoming a wolf strengthened and reinforced them. No way in hell was anyone going to break into Tony’s place. Just let them try.

He could smell the person; they weren’t even trying to be careful, practically swimming in aftershave. Bucky’s sharp senses pulled up the smell of crowded quarters -- they’d been on a bus or maybe an airplane, the merest traces of other people clinging like static. Underneath, nylon and cotton blend fabric. Cheap coffee.

Bucky’s lip pulled back to show off his teeth.

A hand twisted the doorknob and the door opened. “Hey, Tones--”

Bucky lunged, growling.

“Whoa!” Tony yelled. He tried to follow Bucky, got his feet tangled in his stool, and nearly fell. “Whoa whoa whoa, Bucky, relax, it’s okay! He’s a friend!”

Bucky snapped his teeth shut, mere inches from the man’s hand. He’d drawn back a bit, as any sane person would in the face of two hundred pounds of angry wolf, but he didn’t smell scared, or even angry. Cool as a cucumber. He’d shifted his weight just a bit. Defensive posture. Someone willing to go toe-to-toe with a wolf was either damn brave, or impressively stupid.

Bucky took a shuddery, half step backward, lowering his head. He whined at Tony, requesting clarification. _This? This is a friend?_

“Pepper said you went and got yourself an attack dog,” the man said, not taking his eyes off Bucky, “but I didn’t think she meant-- that.”

Tony’s hand dug into the fur of Bucky’s ruff, a soothing contact. “It’s okay,” Tony repeated. “This is Rhodey, he’s my best and oldest friend.”

“Excuse you,” the man, apparently Rhodey, huffed. “I ain’t _old_.”

“Older than me, pumpkin cheeks,” Tony said cheerfully, “and I think we all know that’s all that counts.” He patted Bucky’s side, then let go to greet Rhodey with a hug. There was no tension at all in Tony, now, and quite a bit of joy. Whoever this Rhodey was, Tony trusted him.

“I just got in,” Rhodey was saying. “You know how the Air Force is. I wouldn’t even have bothered to say hi, just gone to fall on my face, but the front desk guy told me the power was still on in here, and I know you.”

Bucky wasn’t growling anymore, but he still couldn’t quite stop the hair from bristling. He’d been trying to get Tony’s attention all night, and who the hell was this guy? Good looking, with a showy smile, all at ease with Tony, and dragging him away without any effort at all? Hmph.

There were times when he almost wished that Tony _didn’t_ know he was human; Bucky’d been sitting around all evening with a powerful need to pee, and he was thiiiiiis close to demonstrating -- again -- the bladder capacity of an adult wolf.

He whined, wagging his tail hopefully.

“Guilty as charged,” Tony was saying, and he was pulling Rhodey over toward the screens. “Come and have a look at my latest project. You know that weird photographer stalker guy? We’ve had a bit of a breakthrough, so I’m working on a way to block his camera.” He pulled up the camera’s schematics, clearly expecting Rhodey to have an opinion.

“That’s a good thing,” Rhodey said. “Don’t need to see any more pictures of your ass on celebrity scandal shows.” He poked the schematic, bringing up the formula. “You considered doing this as a wrap, instead of an infusion? I don’t know about you, Tones, but I sit in a cockpit most days, and this infusion looks mighty brittle to me. Admittedly, most people -- and I say _most_ , because I have not forgotten that incident in ‘98, mind you -- don’t throw rocks at skyscrapers.”

Bucky shifted his jaw a little. Wolves couldn’t exactly grit their teeth or grind their jaws. Carnivore teeth weren’t made for it. He was going to have to get drastic very soon if someone didn’t feed him and let him go piss on something. He scratched at the door.

Tony hummed thoughtfully, adjusting something on one of the screens. “A wrap might be possible,” he agreed, “though the fragility would still be something of a problem, at least during installation.”

Bucky paced back and forth in front of the door. Tony was still scowling at the displays, once again utterly lost to any and everything not currently six inches away from his nose. Bucky whined. Technically, he did know how to unlatch the door, although it might take him a while -- opposable thumbs were really handy -- but leash laws. He couldn’t leave if Tony wasn’t with him.

“Tones, man, how long’s it been since you took Fido for a walk?” Rhodey wondered, glancing over at Bucky with a slightly alarmed expression.

“His name’s Bucky, not Fi--” Tony stopped, finally, _finally_ focusing on Bucky properly. He looked at the clock, and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit. It’s been... a while.” He winced guiltily as he turned back to Bucky. “You need a walk, Bucko?”

Bucky pawed at the door a few more times. He had to sit down to keep from wagging his tail, since he was pretty sure wiggling his butt around was not going to be a good plan. Uuuuug, why did wolves not have the right shape of lips to make human noises? His life would be so much easier if he had a more effective means of communication.

He was pretty sure at this point that some ancient languages expert was going to discover that, among _Hungry, No_ , and _Duck_ , one of the first sentences that Og the Neanderthal said was, “Where the fuck is the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I’ve been neglecting you for a while, haven’t I?” Tony tugged the leash out of his pocket where he’d stashed it when they’d come back in after lunch. “Let’s get you taken care of. You want to walk with us, Rhodeybear? Or do you need to go fall on your nose right away?”

“Kinda wanna see the show of you walkin’ a dog that weighs more than you do soppin’ wet,” Rhodey commented. “Whatcha say, boy, you take him for a morning drag?”

Bucky almost snorted at that, since it was, honestly, pretty accurate sometimes. Bucky made a show of sniffing at Rhodey’s outstretched hand. Maybe this Rhodey guy wasn’t so bad -- he’d at least _noticed_ that Bucky was having an issue.

Tony clipped on the leash and Bucky gave a little huff, sticking his nose off in the other direction, pointedly ignoring Tony, which really took a lot more effort than actually ignoring Tony.

Tony sighed as he opened the door out onto the hall. “Guess I’m in the doghouse,” he said.

Bucky was pleased to see that, unlike Tony, Rhodey was doing a constant sweep of the area. Military, he decided, although he was dressed in civvies. Ugly civvies. Who decided that anyone should be able to wear a green polo and khaki pants, much less actually carry it off?

Rhodey wasn’t obvious about it; he didn’t move with the deliberation of a man preparing to get attacked, but he kept a quiet, watchful lookout. Bucky approved.

There was no way he was going to last until they got to the park; Bucky dragged Tony over to the very nearest rain gutter and lifted a leg, glaring at Tony.

Tony at least had the grace to look chagrined. He waited until Bucky was done, then dropped down to one knee to scratch Bucky’s ears. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I am. I’d promise not to do it again, but it would be a lie, all good intentions aside. We’ll have to work out a signal I can’t ignore, huh?”

“Pretty sure you can ignore just about anything, when you put your mind to it,” Rhodey said. He was looking up at the sky, all yellow and cloudy and full of light noise. It was butt ugly early in the morning, not even dawn yet, but the city was never what anyone would call peaceful. “Think he’ll more need to train you by pissin’ on your couch a few times.”

Bucky woofed lightly. _Don’t think I haven’t thought about it._

“Bucky wouldn’t do that to me,” Tony told his friend. “We have an understanding.”

“So does my sister with her cat, and the thing still pees on her bed whenever he’s mad at her,” Rhodey said. “Animals just ain’t that smart, Tones. Which means you gotta make sure to meet their needs.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Animals are plenty smart,” Tony argued. “They’re just not _verbal_. And Bucky’s smarter than most humans. You’ll see, we’ll work it out.”

Rhodey just shook his head, smiling like Tony had some something unbelievably cute. What had Tony said about Rhodey? Oh, right. Licking. Rhodey would like that. Bucky had his doubts about that, having met the man now, but-- well stupid animals did stupid things.

Bucky shook himself all over, trotted to the end of his leash, right in front of Rhodey, and sat up, as if to beg for a treat.

“Oh, he’s cute, I’ll give you tha--”

Bucky waited until Rhodey’s mouth was open for maximum effectiveness, then took an enormous lick, from chin to temple, with as much saliva as he could produce.

Probably a mistake, since he was also massively thirsty, but the results were well worth it.

“Oh, _uygh_ ,” Rhodey spluttered, wiping his face with his hand.

Tony started laughing, wildly and hysterically, bending over to clutch at his stomach. He tried to speak several times, but couldn’t get syllables out around the gasping guffaws.

Bucky wagged his tail. Wolves, he decided, needed eyebrows, so he could waggle them at people. The tail just did not express the same emotions as a set of eyebrows. He trotted back over to Tony and wormed under him, keeping him from falling face-first onto the sidewalk.

“Euuuck.” Rhodey finished blotting at his face, but that green polo of his was soaked at the shoulder.

 _Good dog,_ Bucky thought smugly.

Tony finally got himself under control and hugged Bucky around the neck. “You are the _best_.” He looked at Rhodey’s unimpressed expression and set off on a spate of giggles. “That’s what you get for telling my dog he’s not smart, buttercup. Come on, we’ll go back upstairs and I’ll get you a clean shirt while Bucky has dinner.”

“And then I’m goan fall on my face and sleep for like thirty hours straight. Then strong coffee and good pizza. I’ll tell you what, Tones, I know why the middle east is constantly at war. No pizza, no booze. They’re just bored and hungry.”

Bucky considered that theory while they rode back up the elevator. Most of the world went to war because they were bored and hungry, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori Katz is a scientist on the team who originally invented the camera; we don’t actually know anything about him aside from the one paper and his bio picture on Google Scholars (where he’s holding a cup of coffee and trying to look wise) but we didn’t want to erase him from his work just for the purposes of fic.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the smut-averse: Bucky jerks off in the shower. (It's quick, just a handful of paragraphs.)

There were decided disadvantages to waking up as a human.

Morning breath. Bucky’s mouth tasted like a pigeon had died in there (it had. Several of them, in fact. Wolf-Bucky couldn’t seem to help himself, lunging after the stupid, diseased things like they were Pringles -- can’t eat just one!)

Bedhead. Good lord, Bucky hadn’t taken a shower in almost two weeks, his hair was down around his shoulders where it wasn’t matted and stuck to the side of his head in horrific tangles, and he had enough beard to qualify as an axe murderer.

His sense of smell was all fucked up. Waking up human, he couldn’t smell things nearly as well as a wolf could. For whatever reason, it made his eyeballs ache and his nose burn, like he had a bad sinus infection. From recent experience, he knew that would take a few hours to wear off, while he walked around nose-blind and unobservant, trying to remember how to function as a biped.

Worst of all, he was naked again (still) and curled around Tony, like his wolf-form had been sleeping on the man (it had). Morning wood was a thing for humans -- if there was one thing he did not miss about being human, it was unexpected, inconvenient erections. That was just a thing that wolves didn’t do. (Mostly. He was not going to let himself recall the couple of instances that he’d had to work hard not to rub against Tony’s leg inappropriately.)

Between Rhodey’s visit and the continued threat from T, Bucky had spent most of the last week in wolf-form. But since Rhodey’s departure, there hadn’t been any scent or sighting of T, and he’d let his guard down. So he woke up with his head resting on Tony’s stomach, the sheets pulled most of the way down, and if anyone saw them together, they’d look like lovers. Annnnnd Bucky had a raging hard on, smelled like he was homeless, and looked like a serial killer.

Yeah, great.

On the plus side, it was the weekend. Tony tended to sleep soundly in the morning unless Bucky woke him up, so…

He slid out of the bed carefully, stopped at the box of the clothes that Tony had ordered for him. Bucky had managed to help with that, barking yes at his size measurements and color selections, so there were several outfits just waiting for him to be human again.

Bucky picked through the clothes, and then headed into Tony’s bathroom. Clippers, clippers, Tony had a persnickety little beard, surely he had a trimmer some--ah!

After he’d trimmed the beard down to more of a deliberate scruff, it was tempting as hell just to shave his head and get it over with, but he wasn’t sure if that would make him a naked wolf, which would just be weird. Too many things he still didn’t know about this whole werewolf thing. Aside from the fact that he didn’t quite hate it as much as he had last month.

He had a purpose now, someone to protect, people who cared about him. His hands went up to the collar and he had the tongue out of the buckle before the scar twitched and twinged, reminding him that only Tony was allowed to take the thing off. Grumbling, Bucky wrapped a towel around his hips and went back out into the bedroom.

“Tony.” He crouched by the bed and nudged at Tony’s arm.

“Mmmf?” Tony’s face scrunched up and one eyelid peeled about halfway open. “Nng.”

“No, you don’t have to get up,” Bucky promised, trying to suppress a grin at how adorable and sleep-muddled Tony was. “Just need you to take the collar off for me so I can shower.”

“Nn.” Tony groped one hand out of the sheets and fumbled at the collar’s buckle, his eye closing again even as he tugged it open.

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky said. He couldn’t resist ruffling Tony’s hair a little. “Go on back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Bucky took the collar back into the bathroom with him, coiled it up, and laid it down gently on the countertop. It was the new one that Pepper had picked out when she thought he was still a dog, leather woven in a triangle pattern of red and gold with his name embossed on it.

Funny how only a few weeks ago, he would have looked at it as something that marked an involuntary slavery, something that marked him as owned. Other. Lesser.

Now… now he touched it with one finger, feeling more naked without it than he was without clothes.

Bucky turned on the shower, and the water was already warm. Huh. That was nice. He stepped in. Tony probably wouldn’t mind if Bucky used his soap and stuff, and with his nose still feeling like someone had stapled it shut, Bucky kinda wanted to smell like Tony, up close where he could actually detect it. Maybe it would help some.

The bruises and cuts from his tangle with Animal Control, and before with one of Fury’s Strike teams were finally fading. Bucky thought it might be cheating somehow; werewolves were supposed to have accelerated healing, except for silver bullets, according to Hollywood. Thinking about Fury reminded Bucky that if possible, he might want to try to pull up some dossiers on the Strike Teams. Tony would need to know who was -- possibly -- coming after his guard dog.

Bucky’s hair was a tangled wet mess against his neck. He squinted at Tony’s gels and creams in their neat bottles. He probably wasn’t going to be able to work shampoo through his hair yet, so he used almost a palm full of conditioner and packed it around his head to soak in while he soaped up.

His morning wood had softened some while he trimmed his beard, but smelling Tony’s hair products got it up and perking around again.

No big deal, he decided. He was in the shower, relative privacy, and he could just--

Yeah, that was good, a little bit of soap on his hand slicked the way, and… He probably shouldn’t be thinking about Tony, that was… Yeah, fuck it, what Tony didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of them, and if there was a man finer than Tony Stark on the fucking planet, Bucky hadn’t seen him.

He closed his eyes, wrapped his hand around his aching dick, and conjured up Tony’s sweet face. Brilliant smile. When he really meant it Tony looked like a kid in a candy store, all unashamed joy. Beautiful, deep, haunting brown eyes that seemed to follow Bucky wherever he went. Perfect, kissable lips that Bucky would love to taste, would die to see pressed against his skin, or stretched wide around his cock.

Biceps that made Bucky swallow hard, a trim waist. Ass that was just begging to be tapped. Legs that Bucky would love to have curled around him, pulling him down. God… Tony… He wanted to sink into that man and never come out again.

Bucky stifled a groan against his forearm, left hand working his cock ruthlessly, racing himself toward orgasm, needing it so bad, wanting it so much--

The noise he made when he came… probably didn’t sound like he was filming a shampoo commercial, but hopefully the noise of the shower was loud enough, and Tony soundly asleep enough, for it not to be an issue.

He panted, trying to regain his equilibrium.

“Okay, okay.” The conditioner had either untangled his hair, or he was going to have to find scissors. He rinsed it out, shaking out the remaining knots; there was at least one that was going to need a comb and some luck, but hopefully…

He washed his hair, conditioned it again.

It would have to do.

***

Tony woke with a jolt, not sure what it was that had awakened him. He reached for Bucky, but the bed was empty, and cold, which meant Bucky had gotten up a while ago.

Tony frowned, and then registered the sound of water in the pipes, the very faint splashing of water from the bathroom. Shower, his sleep-fogged brain eventually identified. He vaguely remembered Bucky waking him up briefly, earlier, those pretty gray-blue eyes only inches from Tony’s.

Tony groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, trying not to remember what Bucky had looked like the last time, all thick muscle and golden skin and--

Nope, not helping. Tony pushed upright and reached for his robe. At least this time he’d be a little more covered up, instead of sitting around in his boxers and desperately trying not to pop a stiffie.

Human Bucky meant no morning walk, which was... almost a disappointment. Though breakfast still had to be acquired. Bucky ate enough for any three humans. Tony found his phone on the bedside table and started looking for likely candidates.

Poking his phone to order food took about half of his attention; the rest remained fixed on the bathroom. The water stopped, some excessive but quiet swearing took place, Tony’s blow dryer ran for a while, and finally Bucky came out.

Where before, he’d looked like a homeless guy -- good looking, but still homeless -- showered, cleaned up, and appropriately dressed Bucky Barnes was fashion-model attractive. His hair was still long, but pulled into a purposefully messy man bun, with a few locks tugged out that framed a face that could have easily been on the front cover of a GQ magazine, with piercing blue eyes, bedroom eyebrows, and rockin’ the careful “oh, I forgot to shave this morning, would you like beard-burn on your thighs” stubble.

He’d picked out jeans that were less straining at the seams and more “painted on” and a maroon long-sleeve henley that strained to cover muscles and biceps, outlining his chest and clinging to his belly.

Bucky tossed the hand towel into the sink negligently and grinned at Tony, a brilliant, light up the room smile. Tony thought he could almost see the wolf-Bucky’s tail wagging frantically. “Oh, you’re up,” he said. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He actually sounded slightly chagrined, which was a switch. Wolf-Bucky didn’t seem to mind at all rousting Tony somewhat after daybreak.

“Not sure,” Tony admitted. “No worries. I’ve ordered breakfast.” He waved his phone casually. “So that’ll be here soon.” He gave Bucky another once-over, hopefully subtly, though he had no doubt Bucky would notice anyway. “So was this a decision?” he wondered. “I have to admit, changing didn’t seem like the sort of thing you could sleep through.”

Bucky shook his head. “I guess… I mean, I didn’t decide to,” he said. “I’ve only been aware of it, goin’ the other way. Coming back to me, that seems to be just… something I do in my sleep. Weird, yeah? I keep wondering where it all goes; I mean… th’ hair and stuff. Which reminds me--” He ducked back into the bathroom. “Can you fasten it back on?”

He held out the collar, dangling from one finger, the buckle clicking as it swung gently.

Oh, Jesus. Tony had fastened the collar around the wolf’s neck with hardly a thought except to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but with Bucky watching him with those bright eyes, that... was going to be awkward.

 _Only as awkward as you make it,_ chided a voice in Tony’s mind that sounded remarkably like Rhodey. Tony fixed a smile in place and took the collar from Bucky. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed. _This doesn’t mean anything, it’s not sexy, it’s not even flirting,_ he told himself as Bucky leaned close so Tony could loop the collar around. _It’s just what has to be done._

The leather was stretched and indented a little where it had worn in, which meant that at least Tony wasn’t going to fasten it so it was too tight for when Bucky changed back. He worked the buckle deftly, trying not to brush Bucky’s skin with his fingers, and resolutely did not think about that little burst of heat he felt at seeing his colors, his mark of ownership, on Bucky’s throat.

Tony sat back when he’d finished, and Bucky’s gaze snapped up to Tony’s eyes. “So, uh,” Tony said. _Stop making it awkward!_ “I’m going to go...” He waved a hand toward the bathroom. “If the food arrives while I’m in there, you can go ahead and get started. You’re probably extra hungry after the shift, yeah?”

Bucky chuckled, warm and rich and soothing. “Sometimes I think I was born hungry an’ ain’t never quite caught up.”

Normal mornings -- and why was Tony thinking of wolf-Bucky as _normal_ , there was something wrong with that, wasn’t there? --  Bucky would already be dragging Tony toward the door, coffee in one hand, leash in the other.

For just an instant, Bucky leaned in, like-- hell, like he was going to kiss Tony, before realizing he was human again and it might mean something different, and he jerked back. “Yeah, you go-- do your thing. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“Hey, _mi casa es su casa_ ,” Tony said. “Uh, literally, even.” He ducked into the closet to grab clothes -- he didn’t even look at what he was grabbing -- and then ducked into the bathroom before he burned up from the heat of Bucky’s gaze.

The bathroom was still filled with steam, the mirror smoky with condensation, except for a little circle that had been wiped off, rich with the smell of shampoo and conditioner. One white towel was hung up with wet imprints all over it, the others were still pristine.

Tony’s brush had been somewhat mangled, and there was a mat of hair in the trash can that made Tony wince, because tugging that out had probably hurt. He turned the water on as the doorbell sounded. There were voices, muffled, and Tony could hear Bucky’s open, honest laugh. He could imagine the delivery guy making jokes about what they needed all the food for, or something. Another round of Tony Stark orgy rumors were probably about to get started.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

Tony rushed through his shower, slowed down enough to shave without ruining his goatee or slicing his face open, and then rushed through the rest before dragging his clothes on. The damp air made them cling, and his hair was still a little damp because he was feeling too impatient to dry it completely, and it was probably good he hadn’t been the one to answer the door, because he certainly _looked_ like he had cleaned up hastily after an orgy. And possibly put on the wrong clothes.

He caught himself wondering if Bucky would appreciate the look, then pressed both hands over his eyes with a frustrated groan. How fucking inappropriate was it to be attracted to someone who spent most of his time -- since Tony had known him anyway -- as an _animal_?

Tony lowered his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. “Keep it together,” he told himself firmly.

He tugged at his shirt again and pushed out of the bathroom.

Bucky had cut up several pieces of well-buttered toast and was dipping them into a cup of-- tomato juice? Across the table from him, he’d laid out a plate for Tony, culled from the more than a half dozen boxes on the counters, french toast triangles and scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, sliced melon, and a cup of coffee.

Tony scooped up the coffee and cradled it to his chest, breathing in the smell of it. “Did I get enough?”

“I’ll be okay,” Bucky said. “An’ uh, I can cook, if you know, you don’t wanna pay for delivery all th’ time.” He sighed. “It’ll give me somethin’ to do, leastways. I can’t tag along with you while you work while I’m… like this. There’s new boyfriend, and then there’s overly attached girlfriend syndrome.”

He had a point, though some part of Tony was already pouting at the idea of being separated from Bucky for most of the day. He’d gotten used to having the wolf at his side, or lounging nearby. “Yeah, that would... probably be kind of creepy,” he admitted. He reached for the new phone that Pepper had dropped off. He unlocked it with a swipe of his hand, then dove into the settings. “Here, I’m setting you up with an account. You order whatever you need from the grocery service. Books or games or whatever if you get bored. Whatever you want.” He put the phone back on the table and pushed it over to Bucky. “When I get back, we can go over some of the communication stuff, maybe, now that you can, you know, talk and use hands and stuff.”

“Opposable thumbs are decidedly one of the things I miss about bein’ a man,” Bucky said, picking up his cup again to demonstrate. “Elbows, too. Holy shit, you don’t know how many times I wanted my leg to just… bend the _other_ way.”

Tony tried to picture it and wound up blinking rapidly in an effort to get that image _out_ of his mind. That was just, just _wrong_. “Uh,” he stammered, trying to remember what he’d been about to say. “Oh. My number’s in the phone, and Pepper’s, if you need one of us for anything. I’ve got you set as a priority contact, so it’ll ring even if I’m on silent.”

Bucky refilled Tony’s coffee mug absently. “Okay. I’ll be fine, Tony. Don’t worry. Go… do your genius thing. Oh, an’ if you don’t feel it’s invadin’ your privacy or nothin’, get Pepper t’ send me up the complete file you got on T? I… tracking down a perp’s kinda part of what I used t’ do. Maybe I’ll catch somethin’ that’s got missed?” He forked a piece of sausage in his mouth and chewed. He flicked his tongue out to catch a patch of grease that made his lip shiny.

Tony had to drag his eyes away from Bucky’s mouth. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, I can... I’ll have the file put together for you, sure. You don’t have to, you know. That’s above and beyond.”

“If I can’t protect you by being there, I can at least see if we can’t run th’ fucker to ground an’ make him think twice about his life’s choices,” Bucky said, and he glared as if T’s existence personally offended him. “Go on, get moving.” He got up from the table and started clearing off the used dishes, and, as if completely unaware of what he was doing, reached over and brushed a hand along Tony’s cheek, ending the gesture with a thumb over his chin. “I’ll see ya tonight.”

“Right.” Tony watched Bucky carry the dishes to the sink, letting himself appreciate those broad shoulders and trim waist, the way Bucky’s ass curved perfectly down to meet those muscular thighs. Then he jerked his thoughts back into line. He stood up, checked his pockets, and gave Bucky a quick smile. “See you tonight.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Corporate town,” Bucky muttered. After he’d spent a while poking at the phone, putting together a grocery list, a list of personal supplies that he’d need as a human, and a list of stuff he dubiously labeled “entertainment,” Bucky did some quick tracking and realized that almost all of it was coming from the floors below.

Which made sense, in a way, since Stark Industries not only employed but also housed a great number of people right there on site. So, having grocery stores and boutiques in the building made sense, and was probably very convenient for any number of reasons.

And made it even more understandable why Tony was so pasty -- the man rarely left the building.

Digging around, Bucky managed to find an unused notebook that might have been, at one point, liberated from a high class hotel or something.

_\-- walks_

He and Tony could take a walk in the afternoon, even if Bucky wasn’t a wolf. It would be good for him to get out of the building, see sky, get some fresh air, stretch his muscles. Not to mention it would give Bucky an excuse to hold his hand for a while. He wasn’t quite embarrassed to admit that the natural affection Tony showed Bucky as a wolf was decidedly lacking in their human interactions, and that Bucky had missed it desperately. He wasn’t ashamed of that. Even if he wasn’t going to admit it aloud to anyone just yet.

Another delivery person -- this one an internal courier -- showed up after Bucky finished stowing the groceries. He had a sealed file and Bucky had to put a thumbprint on a reader to access it. Which was a little worrisome. He knew Stark Industries had good security, and it was all internally monitored, but who, he wondered, might be monitoring Stark Industries? Would that blip on anyone’s radar? Guess he’d know in a few days.

Fuck, he should have told Tony about that, but when?

_\-- Strike Team_

_\-- communications_

_\-- bodyguard, in wolf_

He slid the contents of the file onto the table.

At first the stalker had seemed almost cute, if the notes hadn’t been showing up in weird places. A secret admirer, maybe. A few love letters, declarations of affection, of undying loyalty. Bucky snorted at that; what would a mere human know about loyalty? He sure as hell had never been shown any as a person. His former teammates turned on him without question. He wasn’t sure he’d ever dedicated himself to another person at all… before Tony.

Tony, who, he knew instinctively, he would literally die for. Definitely as a wolf… probably as a person. It was just the natural order of things. He smiled, raised his head to look around. No Tony. Damn, he really was getting used to being at Tony’s ankle all the damn time.

After a few months -- and the fact that it was _months_ was worrisome, obsess much, T? -- the notes started to get a little desperate, and then hostile.

The last few were out and out violent threats.

T seemed to think Tony would be better off dead than without him. Or possibly her -- the threat to Tony’s face, make him ugly so no one else would want him, that was more of a woman’s thought -- but the photographer in the alleyway was definitely male. Better to go with male, unless there were more than one of them out there, or two people working together… ug. No, Occam’s razor. Keep it simple, stupid.

Still, the threats were personal; someone who either knew Tony, or thought they were entitled to his attention. A scorned lover, an ex, or merely someone who’d hit him up at a bar. Bucky wasn’t sure. Did Tony go to bars?

_\-- possibly you know the guy?_

_\-- failed romantic interactions, six months ago?_

Bucky made himself a couple of sandwiches, got back to looking through the file. Oh, Tony probably was working, which meant he wasn’t thinking about food. Bucky had noticed that tendency. He pulled up his phone app, ordered a lunch sent to Tony’s office.

Pulled up the texting screen. Pepper and Tony were his only contacts, and probably the only people he should talk to. God knew what would happen if he tried to text his sister. Becca thought he was dead, and it wasn’t worth the risk to her to let her know he wasn’t. He jotted Tony a quick note. _Hey boss, sent you lunch._

Tony texted back a couple of minutes later: _Thanks! Good choice!_

Bucky hesitated a moment, wondering if he should reply -- but Tony was probably busy. Just like Bucky should be. He put the phone away and checked the photos that T had taken. The man either had a hell of a zoom lens, or he was getting really, really close to Tony, which wasn’t good, either. It meant his disguise was spot on, or no one had noticed the same creepy person hanging around.

The first really vitriolic note came after Tony had apparently spent the night with some woman. There was a photo of the two of them getting out of a ritzy sports car to some big picture event.

Jealousy.

That was this guy’s primary motivation. He was jealous, wanted to be at Tony Stark’s side. Looking more and more like a scorned lover.

That… hurt in places Bucky wasn’t comfortable examining, either.

He put the files away. He was emotionally compromised. Time to take a breather.

In Bucky’s old life -- and it was strange, Bucky decided, how far away and unreal it seemed, given that it was only a few months ago -- he had never cared about home amenities the way some of his co-workers had. Big entertainment space, gas fireplace, good view. None of that mattered to Bucky. He barely had friends, he rarely had a lover back to his place, and he never opened the drapes because he wasn’t a goddamn idiot. But he did like to have a nice kitchen.

Where a lot of people crossed their legs, put their hands on their knees and went _uuuuuuum_ , Bucky cooked.

He’d learned to bake along with his sister, when his ma had said the best way to catch a good man was through the stomach. Ma hadn’t realized Bucky’s motivation, exactly, just laughed and included her oldest son in the lessons.

Bucky was gay as a maypole, but not out. He’d never really come out, exactly. He frequented gay bars as an adult, picked up a quick fuck or two, but… well, it never came up, did it? It wasn’t like women were lining up around the block to date a fucking murderer. Even if he never told anyone what he did outside of work, the few women he’d gone on blind dates with had sensed _something_ was wrong with him and he never got a second date. Which was good.

But he’d kept up the habit of baking. He made pies and cakes and cookies. He’d mastered souffles and then macarons. He could make dinners, obviously. Soups were one of his favorite things to make, but desserts and appetizers were his specialities. He made some friends at the agency, usually by dint of bringing several bags of tailgating supplies to various sports events. Other people’s party spaces were nice, and then Bucky didn’t have to answer awkward questions about why all his windows had tin foil on them and double-thick curtains.

Bucky had never been sure what he was supposed to do with a good man when he found one; but until recently, he had seldom met anyone he really wanted to do anything more than fuck.

Until Tony.

Tony was a good man.

Time to see if Ma’s advice had been worth it.

***

Tony blew through the paperwork Pepper had left for him, and then went down to Materials to check on a project that had gotten hung up somewhere between theory and prototype. That was a tricky one, but that was okay. Tony would rather be stumped along with his engineers than have to rant and rave about how they were missing the simplest things.

So they sat down and had a good brainstorming session for an hour or so, and by the end of it, Tony felt like he’d contributed at least a couple of avenues of exploration for them to chase down.

Which meant he was finally clear to go back to his own workshop and tinker.

Tony always had at least half a dozen projects in various states of completion at any given time. He never quite knew what was going to capture his fancy until he dove in and started puttering around, and then inevitably something would grab him and he’d lose a few hours to the obsession.

Or days.

It was hard to settle into it today, though. Tony kept looking over at the spot that Bucky had been occupying for the last few days, out of the way but well within line of sight. There was a little dusting of loose hair on the floor there, where the wolf had shed and the ‘bots hadn’t cleaned it up yet.

Tony wondered if human-Bucky would like the workshop. The couch was pretty comfortable -- Tony used it for power naps, mostly -- and there were lots of cool things to see. Well, Tony thought they were cool. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t. Tony had to admit that he didn’t know much about what Bucky liked or was interested in.

Tony almost texted Bucky to invite him down, but then he remembered Bucky saying “overly attached girlfriend syndrome” and put his phone back down. He’d see Bucky again in a few hours. He could wait. It wasn’t like Bucky was going to not be there when Tony got back.

Tony tried to focus on his projects again, but nothing was holding his attention. He gave up and chased DUM-E down and dragged the ‘bot over to a workstation for a tune-up. That was good, work that didn’t require a lot of brainpower but _did_ take some attention, because DUM-E would absolutely try to escape if Tony got too distracted.

About the time Tony was wrapping that up, an interoffice courier knocked on the door and delivered a box from the deli on the ground floor -- a toasted club sandwich accompanied by an apple and some chips -- and a fresh cup of coffee.

Tony blinked at it, confused -- he didn’t remember ordering lunch -- and then wondered if he ought to be suspicious. But just as it occurred to him, his phone buzzed with a text from Bucky. _Hey boss, sent you lunch._

Well, that was all right, then. More than all right. Something warm and fluttery set up residence in Tony’s stomach. Bucky was looking out for him. Taking care of him.

Tony texted back, _Thanks! Good choice!_ And then almost recalled the message immediately, because all those exclamation marks made it sound like he was a starry-eyed teenager or something, and then it was too late, because the little “read” indicator popped up. Ug.

Tony waited for a couple of minutes, keeping an eye on the phone while he ate his lunch, but Bucky didn’t say anything else. So when Tony finished eating, he went back to his projects and this time managed to make a little progress.

Enough that he was startled by the alarm on his phone telling him that it was time to take Bucky for his pre-dinner walk. Which wasn’t necessary, of course, but once Tony started thinking about Bucky again, he couldn’t seem to stop. What the hell; it was almost time for dinner, anyway.

Tony packed up, patted DUM-E and U fondly on their struts, and headed home.

Stepping out of the elevator, he almost wondered if he’d absently pressed the button for the wrong floor, as the tiny hallway in front of the penthouse was filled with _smells_. Pie crust and sugar, something with roasted tomatoes, and something else that brought to mind mounds and mounds of melty cheese. For just an instant, Tony was transported back in time, to the Stark Mansion, where Jarvis’s wife, Ana, would be cooking dinner when Tony got home from school, and Ana would, at least, admire his homework assignments and listen to his fifth grade woes.

Tony pushed through the door and beelined for the kitchen, following his nose. “Oh my God, it smells like heaven in here.”

“Hey boss, welcome home,” Bucky said. He pulled out a tray from the oven, bumped the door closed with his hip and set it on a tripod. He gave Tony a jaunty wink. “How was work?”

Tony couldn’t help but peek at the dish -- stuffed manicotti, dripping with cheese and roasted tomatoes. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you could cook,” he said. He leaned over the pan and took a deep sniff. “Oh my _God_.”

“There’s a salad for you at the table,” Bucky said, a little sternly. “Do-- you have to let it set, or it’ll just fall apart, get your grimy fingers out of there.” Tony twitched toward the pasta dish anyway, and was rewarded for that with-- holy shit, did Bucky just swat his ass with a _wooden cooking spoon_?

Tony rubbed at his stinging bottom and gave Bucky his best betrayed look, and absolutely positively did _not_ think about how that stinging smack might turn into something... else. Nope.

Bucky seemed unmoved by the betrayed eyes anyway, so Tony mock-grumbled and flopped into his chair at the kitchen table where there was, in fact, a salad waiting. And breadsticks, drenched in garlic. And a few plates, waiting for main courses. As in plural. As in what the actual hell, how much food was Bucky intending to stuff into him? And that didn’t even count the fact that he was pretty sure he’d smelled something like a pastry.

“Is this some kind of plot to, I don’t know, feed me until I explode and make off with my fortune?” Tony wondered. He hadn’t even known he _owned_ salad tongs. He lifted some salad to his plate and sniffed at that, too. Red wine vinaigrette. And fresh parmesan.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, leaning in the doorframe. “I forgot t’ order _wahfer thin mints,”_ he said in a pretty good imitation of a British person mocking a French person’s accent. “You… uh, like asparagus and olives? It didn’t occur t’ me t’ ask before I ordered, and those’re, uh, foods a lot of people don’t like.”

“Olives are great,” Tony said. “Guess we’ll find out about asparagus.” He grinned. “Are you planning on sitting down here anytime so I can actually eat?”

Bucky brought out a warming dish, set it on the table and slid… what looked like the world’s weirdest layer cake onto his plate, potato, cheese… and asparagus and olives. He drizzled sauce on it, then put one on his own plate. “Just gimme a minute, fussy-britches. Have a breadstick, that’s what I made ‘em for.”

Tony huffed and bit into a breadstick. They were perfect, slathered in garlic and butter and still warm. “Death by food,” Tony accused cheerfully. “Seriously, this is, this is amazing.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He tossed his apron on the back of his chair and pulled up to the table. “I mighta got carried away. S’been a while since I had an actual kitchen t’ cook out of.”

Tony waited until Bucky picked up his fork (because Ana would have smacked him across the knuckles with her spoon otherwise, and after all the effort Bucky had put into this meal, it felt like he should dust off the manners and etiquette that he rarely bothered with) and then dug into the potato-cheese thing. “Oh my _God_ ,” he groaned. The noise he was making was probably slightly obscene, but he couldn’t stop. It was _so damn good._

Bucky tucked into his own food, slightly less orgasmically, but Tony saw the pleased little smile that danced on his mouth. “Glad you like it,” he said. “I… not to bring down the mood or nothin’ but I went over that file. You got any nasty ex-boyfriends I ought to know about?”

“Sure, I guess, I mean. Everyone makes dumb mistakes sometimes, right? You think it’s an ex?” Tony mentally scrolled backwards through his dating history, which was a little sparse for the last several months. The last man he’d dated for any length of time had been Ty -- whose name started with a T, but Tony just couldn’t imagine Ty _bothering_. He’d seemed almost bored when they’d broken up. Before Ty, there had been a few men whose names Tony couldn’t quite remember, because they hadn’t been together long enough to make an impression. There was... Patrick? Pierce? No, Peter, that was it, but Tony wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ known Peter’s last name. It might well have started with a T. And a Terrence -- another T name, that. And before that...

Tony made a face and took another bite of his food. Still amazing. “I guess, but-- I’m going to be honest, there was a while there that I was not very discriminating about who I brought home. I don’t even remember most of them.”

“Reads like someone who thinks you owe them… love, affection, something like that. I mean, not _like that_ , because it’s warped as shit, but-- you’ve probably met this person, at least. Don’t mean nothin’, you’re a public figure, and they’re obsessed. But this bit with th’ acid, that’s… personal. They want you ugly, so no one else will want you, an’ you’ll be grateful that they do. How that works in someone’s twisted little mind, I don’t get, but…”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that much I’d put together. I hadn’t really thought of it being an ex, though. Hm. Something to consider.”

“I’d say, probably someone you’ve met, or pissed off -- not your fault, I ain’t blamin’ no one, these choices, those are his choices -- in the last six months to a year. So that might narrow it down some. Maybe a little longer. Depends. Do you know how long your building holds security footage? If they were actually in your room, an’ they’re even a little bit smart, they’dda waited until that footage was scrubbed before starting with the notes.” Bucky scraped his fork over his plate, catching the last bit of the balsamic glaze.

Tony tipped his hand back and forth. “I haven’t been with a guy for...” He tried to remember how long ago it was that he and Ty had split up. “Oh, geez, at least a year. I’ll have Pepper find out about the security footage.”

“He ain’t been around a few days now, maybe he saw you had a big dog an’ gave it up,” Bucky said, flashing Tony a grin.

Tony grinned back. “Maybe. Or maybe those glitter wraps on the windows are actually blocking him. It’d be nice for something to work out so cleanly, anyway.” Tony was rather proud of the way those had turned out, considering how quickly he’d put them together. They didn’t obscure the view much more than the polarization already did, just gave everything a soft-filter blurry sort of sheen.

Bucky cleared the appetizer plates away and brought out two manicotti rolls, sided with some roasted vegetables. “You don’t gotta eat everything on your plate,” he told Tony. “Jus’ cause I eat like a garbage disposal.”

“Oh, I know,” Tony said. “I have to eat everything on my plate because this may be the best I’ve eaten in decades.”

“Flatterer,” Bucky said, fondly. “Come on, you’re Tony Stark, you eat at th’ finest restaurants in th’ world. I’m jus’... a hobbyist.”

“The fanciest food in the world,” Tony said, quoting something Ana had always told him, “can’t hold a candle to a simple meal made with love.”

Bucky turned a deep, brilliant shade of red, practically burying his face in his plate as if to escape Tony’s gaze. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “Usta do, you know, stuff for the guys, back at the agency. Bring stuff for their parties. Had this one guy… Sam, he was a hot mess, I’ll tell ya. He used t’ get me to make a fancy dinner, right before he’d have his ladyfriend over, an’ pretend he cooked th’ whole thing. Wonder if Sharon dumped him, now I ain’t around t’ cook for him.”

Tony chuckled. “He’s probably at least had to do some fancy footwork.”

Bucky got himself a second, and then a third helping, before bringing out a ringed pastry, alternating sweet cheese and blueberry. “There’s uh, ice cream with that, if you want.”

“Yes, of course I want,” Tony said. He felt his stomach, bulging against the waist of his trousers. “But maybe just a little.”

After dinner, they both sat on the sofa at opposite ends, to watch a movie. That didn’t last too long, as Tony found himself poking cold toes under Bucky’s thigh to warm them up, and then Bucky was leaning on Tony’s shoulder. By the end of the film, Tony was snuggled against Bucky’s side, one arm slowly falling asleep between Bucky’s back and the sofa.

It wasn’t really until Bucky yawned, stretching and releasing Tony’s trapped arm that Tony realized it was… time for bed.

And Bucky was still a human being.

“Uh.” _Don’t panic, this isn’t a panicking situation!_ Tony glanced toward the bedroom, then looked back at Bucky. “So. Um. How do you want to do this?”

Bucky swallowed so hard Tony could hear it. “Uh, crap,” Bucky said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I-- hadn’t got that far in my plannin’. Um. You… I mean, I c’n take th’ sofa if you’d… I mean. Of course you don’t-- bad enough, wakin’--” Bucky cut himself off. “Sorry, I ain’t tryin’ to make this awkward as hell, but I’m doin’ a damn fine job of it anyway. You got a guest room or somethin’, I’m sure.”

Guest room. Yes. That... That was a thing that he had. Of course it was. And Tony was not at all disappointed that Bucky had thought of it. “Yes, that’s an excellent... I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” Tony ducked into his room to drag out the box of Bucky’s clothes and took it to the seldom-used guest room. “Here you go, it’s-- It looks like Pepper went ahead and had it prepped, so you should be good to go.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He shifted to one side to let Tony out. “G’... nite Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [potato-asparagus tower thing](https://www.prouditaliancook.com/2013/05/grilled-potato-and-asparagus-napoleon.html).


	13. Chapter 13

The wolf could smell him, just ahead. It was dark. The full moon was hidden behind clouds, but the wolf knew it was there, the way he knew the earth under his claws, and the way he knew the wind in his fur.

And the way he knew the man.

He ran, swift and silent. The man was not swift. He was not silent. His feet found all the twigs and leaves to snap and crunch, even if he had half as many legs as the wolf. He was slow. He was awkward. He stumbled in the darkness.

Nose-blind and smelling of sweat and fear, his aroma was a delicious siren’s call to the wolf.

_Come and get me._

The wolf ran and wondered if men just wanted to be brought down. If that was all they were good for.

Men with their guns. Men with their cities.

But get a man alone, in the woods, and a wolf could have fun playing with his food.

He got closer, close enough to taste that delicious scent. Close enough to hear the man’s labored breathing, his pounding heart.

The wolf -- but he wasn’t really a wolf, was he? He was something else. Something bigger, stronger, and infinitely more evil than a wolf. Wolves ate from bestial need, not bestial greed. He was huge, he could feel his strength, the way everything in the forest went silent at his passing.

He reached out and plucked the man from his hiding place. As if hiding would ever do him any good.

His claws pierced the man’s soft hide, blood dripping, rich and full and red. It would be good to feast.

The wolf stood to his full height, stretched out, offering the blood to the moon, the goddess, the--

“ _Bucky_!”

***

Tony jerked awake, sitting up straight in bed to the sound of something -- some _one_ \-- screaming.

Tony panted for a moment in the darkness, wondering if he’d really heard it, or if it had been a dream.

It sounded again, a howl of desperate terror. _Bucky!_ Tony threw back the blankets and bolted for the guest room. Bucky was twisted in his own sheets, tangled in them, fighting a corner that had curled around his arm, writhing.

Tony started forward, but the sheer frantic power of Bucky’s struggles gave him pause. He hesitated, halfway across the room, one arm outstretched but not quite within reach. “Bucky!” he called. “Bucky! Wake up!”

“No!” Bucky screamed again, pushing back blindly. “NO, I…” The sheet gave way with a tearing sound and Bucky choked. “Oh, god. _Oh, my god_.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said, darting forward now that Bucky was awake, pushing his fingers without thought into Bucky’s hair the same way he had Bucky’s fur, scratching gently at the scalp below. “It’s okay, you’re here, everything’s okay.”

“Tony?” And Bucky’s voice broke on that simple, two-syllable word. He made another choked noise and then silently sobbed into Tony’s neck, pulling Tony closer until there was no space between them at all. “You’re okay? I--” He sniffled. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Not so much as a scratch,” Tony promised. “I’m right here, I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re all fine here.” He kept rubbing at Bucky’s scalp, stroking through that soft hair, murmuring nonsense.

“Felt s’ goddamn real,” Bucky muttered. “Like… like a whatyoucallit, a foretelling? Like that bitch was warnin’ me what’ll happen. I’m a monster. _A monster._ An’... an’... you know what monsters _do_? They destroy th’ things they care about.”

“You haven’t destroyed anything,” Tony pointed out. “Except a few pigeons, I guess.” He looked down. “And I don’t know if this sheet can be repaired, but that’s fine, I can buy more sheets.” He took a deep, slow breath, letting Bucky feel the expansion of his chest, hear the soft rush of his exhale. “See? I’m fine.”

Bucky heaved out another few desperate breaths. “I _killed_ you, I killed _you_ , I could fuckin’ taste it,” he moaned, still clinging to Tony like life and sanity depended on it.

“Hey,” Tony said firmly. “Look at me. _Look at me._ I’m right here. I’m okay. You didn’t do anything. It was just a dream.”

Bucky finally pulled back a little. Even in the dim light from the hall, Tony could see how wounded and wet his eyes were as he examined Tony for any signs of, what, Tony wasn’t sure. Werewolf bites, he guessed. “I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I’m… Jesus, it’s what she wanted, ain’t it? I am _so damn sorry_ for what I am.” He sobbed again, harsh and bitter. “Tony, Tony-- I… jus’ can you stay a bit?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed immediately. “Yeah, of course.” He summoned up a little bit of a smile and nudged at Bucky’s arm. “Scoot over, make some space.” Bucky wriggled back, and Tony fitted himself into the space, smoothing the ripped sheet over them both. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Bucky said, and he was still shivering, but he clung to Tony like a life preserver. “Yeah, you’re here, you’re okay. I didn’t do anything--” There was an unspoken _yet_ in the air, but Tony ignored it. He ignored the way Bucky’s lips kept pressing and brushing against this shoulder, his throat, as Bucky talked, and how that felt almost like kisses.

Tony found Bucky’s hand, clutching at Tony’s arm, and laced their fingers together. “You didn’t do anything,” he repeated softly. “You’re not going to do anything. We’re okay.” He closed his eyes and willed his breathing slow and deep.

Bucky shivered again, squeezed Tony’s fingers. Fell into sync with Tony’s breathing, and eventually, fell asleep.

***

Almost like he hadn’t slept at all, Bucky groaned. He felt worse, really, than if he’d just not slept, jittery and restless. All his muscles ached.

On the other hand, Tony was laying across his chest, their fingers still laced together. “Hey,” Bucky said, shifting his knee a little to wake Tony up. “You, uh… th-- doorbell.” He finished on a sigh as someone rang it again, twice. _Ding dong, ding dong._

“Nnnnng,” Tony complained, but he pushed against Bucky’s side until he was sitting up. “Th’ hell?”

“Dunno, boss,” Bucky said, “but if I answer th’ door in sweatpants an’ no shirt again this early in th’ morning, someone’s gonna start askin’ about your new boyfriend. So--” _ding dong ding dong._ “Jesus.”

“Fucking hell, all right already!” Tony grouched, sliding out of the bed and stomping toward the front door, still in his boxers.

The sound of the door opening, Tony’s voice drifting back, testy and irritable. “ _What_.”

“Sorry sir,” someone said. “You need to sign for this, and it’s heavy. I didn’t want to put it back on the truck if you were here.”

Bucky considered rolling over and going back to sleep. Considered waking all the way up and maybe, possibly, thought about flirting with Tony when _he_ came back to bed. If he came back to Bucky’s bed, that might be a good place to start.

Or maybe not, because Bucky was being a stupid, cowardly shitheel. And also, he was pretty sure that Tony still thought of him as a _pet_ first and a man second, and proving he wasn’t by sexing the guy up might not be the best place to start.

He sat up a little, yawned, stretched.

Stopped.

He hated feeling nose-blind as a human, like nothing smelled or tasted quite as rich as it did when he was a wolf, but sometimes really strong smells filtered through anyway.

Or really dangerous ones.

_T?_

Bucky got to his feet, stealthy and slow, moving with deliberation in the sneaky, son-of-a-bitch sidle that had given him a reputation as a sniper to fear during his army days. He could get right up on top of a target and never be seen.

He looked around for a weapon, his hand closing on the hairbrush that Pepper had thoughtfully provided for him. It wasn’t a great choice, but it was small, and the handle was wooden, which meant it was solid and heavier than it looked.

A few more steps down the hall and he could see Tony, clad in only his boxers, talking to someone Bucky couldn’t see. The smell wasn’t much stronger in the hall, not like a person was there. Traces, maybe-- T had touched something that Tony was having delivered?

Well, that wasn’t any fucking safer. Bucky bit down on a low growl. If he had hackles, they’d be stiff peaks at the back of his neck and along his shoulders.

“Yeah, fine, where?” Tony said. He took the tablet the courier offered and pulled out the stylus, scrawling on the surface-- Stopped. “Why’d it turn off?”

“Oh, geez,” the courier sighed. “It’s on the blink or something. It’s been doing that all morning. Here, let me reset it.”

Bucky opened his mouth, inhaled, trying to taste the smell in the air. Purple-hate and male, it was definitely the photographer. _T._ Whatever the fuck he was calling himself.

And then he caught a whiff a motor oil. Wouldn’t have been unusual, if Tony had been in the shop and not showered, but--

He tipped his head. Breathed.

Almonds.

_Fuck._

He meant to yell, but his body was moving faster than his brain. He could feel the Change searing through him. There were a few crackles and pops from the device in the other man’s hands. Bucky shot up three inches with a searing pain in his spine, but he was moving, he was already running--

There was smoke pouring out of the device, and both Tony and the courier were standing there, staring at it, frozen with shock.

Bucky threw the hairbrush with the same deadly accuracy that he could throw a knife. The handle smacked into the elevator summon button and the doors opened with an unremarkable _ding._

Shoved one hand, full force, into the courier’s sternum, driving the man back the eight or ten feet across the hall, where he went over backward and fell into the elevator.

The doors were already starting to close when Bucky’s head hit the ceiling as the Change pushed him into the Monster. He towered over Tony, all claws and teeth and seething rage. The device crackled again. He grabbed Tony with oversized arms, lifted and turned.

The device exploded.

Bucky dropped to all fours, a protective shell around Tony’s more vulnerable body.

He finished the Change just as the explosion knocked part of the ceiling down where Tony had been, not seconds before. Little stinging pains went through Bucky’s fur, like wasps, like porcupine quills, like tiny little fires.

Bucky howled, fit to raise the dead. It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_.

Tony cursed and pushed at him, scrabbling free, coughing in the acrid smoke and dust. “--the fuck, oh my--” _cough cough_. He clambered over the rubble in the hall, not bothering to stand up, and pried the elevator door open. “Shit, oh my god, are you okay? What the _fuck?_ ”

Bucky whined, rolled over. He struggled to get up, feeling horrifically vulnerable with his belly exposed. His back legs scrabbled uselessly for a minute, then he got his paws under him. Shook off the tattered remains of his human underwear. Limp-dragged his way over to Tony. A moment later, the building alarms went off.

The courier was laying on his back, breathing, but not awake.

The fire sprinklers went off in the hallway. Bucky sneezed. It wasn’t even cold water which might have eased the burning pain in his leg, but lukewarm, stale, mildewy water. _Gross_.

Tony turned as Bucky reached him and threw his arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging with desperate strength. “Bucky! Oh shit, you’re hurt, you’re... Fuck, you saved me, you--” He hugged Bucky again, and Bucky could feel the tremors of shock starting to echo through his limbs. “Let me, let me see, how bad is it?”

Bucky whined, but moved around and flopped on his side to display his bloody hindquarter. Snuffling at it, there were little bits of scrap metal and plastic embedded in his thigh. _I quit on this technology stuff,_ Bucky thought, utterly human for just a moment inside his head. _Fuckin’ stuff is hazardous to my health._

There were feet in the stairwell. Rescue and EMTs on the way, Bucky thought. He huffed out a sigh and licked at Tony’s hand.

Tony cursed again, hand hovering over Bucky’s wounded leg, then pulled back to pet Bucky’s head and neck, trembling more obvious now. “It’s okay,” he promised. “We’ll get you taken care of. You-- I can’t believe you did that. That was amazing, that was brilliant. How did you know--? Yeah, I know, you can’t talk, we’ll figure it out. It’s going to be okay.” It was unclear whether he was trying to reassure Bucky or himself.

“Tony! Tony!” That was Pepper, pushing her way through the firemen, despite cries of “Ma’am, you really--” Bucky watched her threaten someone with a four inch spike heel shoe before dashing over to Tony’s side. “Oh, my god, Tony!”

Tony gave her a wobbly sort of smile. “I’m okay, Pepper. Really. Bucky saved the day, it was fantastic.” He let her help him to his feet. “Get Strange on the phone. He’s hurt.”

“Good boy,” Pepper whispered.

Bucky thumped his tail on the floor a few times.

***

The courier, whose name was Donald Blake, was propped up in the hospital bed, one of those clear plastic cannulas in his nose, an IV in his arm, and a few bandages and stitches scattered over his body. Alive, but probably not going anywhere soon. There were two cops guarding the door. Tony wasn’t sure if their purpose was to keep Blake from going anywhere, or to keep someone else from getting to Blake. Maybe both, until they’d figured out whether Blake had been an accomplice or a dupe.

Bucky whined, leaning against Tony’s side.

Dogs were not supposed to be in the hospital, but Pepper had gotten the paperwork rushed through and Bucky was officially his service dog. (It had taken a few huge bribes, and Tony had sent donations to two of the largest companion animal training facilities in the country to ease his mind about abusing the system.) As such, Bucky was allowed most places, except where his presence might do actual harm. Surgical theaters were right out.

But Blake had been released from ICU last night, and the only thing Service Dog Bucky could do at this point was shed on him.

Tony patted Bucky’s side, reassuring. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Stark Industries is picking up the hospital and rehab and whatever he needs while he’s recovering. You saved his life.”

A round of charades had filled Tony in that Bucky had smelled traces of the still-mysterious T, but in all the mayhem, all hope of tracking it back had disappeared. At least the police were starting to take Tony’s stalker seriously now.

Blake was a big man, but he looked somehow smaller in the bed, surrounded by monitoring devices. He opened his eyes. “Mr. Stark,” he managed. He coughed, then sat up a little straighter.

“Mr. Blake,” Tony returned. “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I’m probably not going to like the answer. On behalf of Stark Industries, we’re sorry this happened.”

Blake swallowed a few times, eyes wide. “You saved my life, Mr. Stark,” he said, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened to my tablet, I mean, it’d been glitchy all morning, but.. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Tony said firmly. “They’re still looking into what made it actually explode, but I’m sure there was no way you could know that would happen.”

“That was quick thinking, Mr. Stark,” Blake said. “I didn’t even know what was going on at all, but I guess you really are as smart as everyone says. Thank you-- for pushing me into the elevator. I’m… everything just happened so fast. But I told that reporter lady, you’re a real hero, Mr. Stark, you really are.”

“Uh.” It had been Bucky who’d pushed Blake into the elevator, but before Tony could contradict the man, he glanced down at Bucky. Who had definitely not been in wolf form before the accident, and if Blake didn’t remember (or had written off as a hallucination) Bucky’s hulking, terrifying in-between state, then it was probably better to let that rest. “No hero,” Tony said. “It was really Bucky’s instincts that saved us both.” He patted Bucky’s side, carefully avoiding the bandages.

“Yeah, hero dog?” Blake perked up and thumped the bedside a few times. “Come on up and let me say thank you, hmm?”

Bucky did an adorable sort of wiggle, before getting his paws up onto the bed, laying his chin between them and wagging his tail hopefully.

“That’s a hell of a smart dog, you got there, then, Mr. Stark,” Blake said. “Too bad the box blew up, too, huh, big boy? There were all sorts of treats in there for you. Yeah, you need all the treats, don’t you?”

Tony wondered, absently, why everyone talked to animals like they were small, somewhat slow, children.

“I’m definitely making sure he gets all the treats,” Tony promised. “Listen, if you need anything, or think of anything that might help us out, you call Ms. Potts’ office. They’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He put a business card on the little table, next to a vase of flowers. It wasn’t Pepper’s direct line, but it bypassed a few levels to go straight to Pepper’s secretary.

Bucky woofed once, licked Blake’s hand, and then fell in to heel behind Tony. He thudded his tail against Tony’s thighs several times. Sometimes, Tony thought he was going to have a bruise there.

Bucky had been sticking even closer than usual since the incident. Not that Tony could blame him. “Okay, we’ll get out of your hair, let you get some rest.” Tony stepped to the side so Bucky had space to turn around and headed for the door.

“Hey, uh, I dunno if it’s important, Mr. Stark, but the police guy, who’s investigating, he brought some pictures of my tablet, and-- well, I don’t know if it fell off or what, but we all have the same brand of tablet, company policy, the software’s all updated automatically, but a few times, I’ve grabbed someone else’s off the breakroom table, or something? So I put a little sticker on mine, so that wouldn’t happen again. But that sticker? It wasn’t in the pictures. Is that important?”

“So it might not have been your regular tablet at all? Yeah, that might be important. See if you can remember the last time you definitely saw the sticker, and let the police know about that. It’s possible someone swapped devices on you at some point.”

Blake nodded, frowning as he thought about it. “I’ll see ‘f I can remember. You take care of Mr. Stark, okay, Bucky?”

Bucky barked once at that, and it was almost soft. A few of the more ambulatory patients stuck their heads out of their rooms to see what was going on, and Bucky tried -- failed miserably, but he tried -- to blend in and be invisible at Tony’s side.


	14. Chapter 14

Getting stuck in his human body wasn’t something Bucky ever thought he’d have to worry about. But the day before the stupid charity gala, in the middle of dinner -- he was still eating out of a bowl on the floor, but at least he’d managed to whine Tony into sharing his roast beef au jus, instead of that somewhat revolting kibble (better than the stuff at the shelter, but still, it was like eating generic brand breakfast cereal all the time) -- Bucky howled once, pain racing up his spine.

He fell over on the kitchen tiles, panting for breath. It wasn’t, he decided, as bad as some of his other Changes had been. On the other hand, laying naked on the kitchen floor while Tony spluttered and tried very obviously not to stare at him wasn’t doing his ego any good. How the hell was he going to get any traction getting Tony to take him seriously as a man when every time he turned around, the lycanthropy curse was making him look fucking ridiculous?

On the other hand, there was a decided difference between how he felt afterward. Usually, he felt stronger, more powerful, even when he was a man, than he had before the curse. Faster. Graceful. Laying there, Bucky felt like he was recovering from the damn flu or something. Weak. Shivery.

“Well, this is fuckin’ embarassin’,” he commented from his position on the floor. Might as well get it out there and deal with the awkward rather than try to pretend it wasn’t happening.

“That was certainly abrupt,” Tony said in vague agreement. “Hang on, I’ll get you a robe or something.” He got up and jogged into the guest room where Bucky’s clothes were and came back with a bathrobe. “Here. You can go get dressed, and I’ll, uh, fix you a human plate of food, yeah?”

Bucky staggered to his feet and pulled on the robe. “Yeah. Ok. Like…’ His stomach was doing fucking loop-de-loops, which was not normal. Although what Bucky knew about normal and lycanthropy didn't have a very large overlay on a Venn diagram. “I ain't feelin’ right. What…”

Bucky glanced around helplessly and saw that it was almost full dark. “Oh.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tony’s mouth pinched worriedly, and he lifted a hand hesitantly, not quite touching Bucky’s arm.

“New moon,” Bucky said. Tony was looking at him blankly, so he elaborated. “The wolf in me is weakest now. Like the full moon, only backward. I won't be able to… erm, ‘wolf out’ at all. An’... I feel like crap, honestly. I dunno. Maybe I've been relying on my wolf too much, but I feel all… weak as a kitten with a fever.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “That’s... I mean, it sucks, but it’s just part of the regular cycle of things, right? We can manage three days without your wolf. It’ll make for easier conversation, at least? And hey, opposable thumbs!”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Means you're on your own for the gala, though.” So far, by some miracle, no one had figured out that Tony had a sometimes-boyfriend, and they didn’t want to spur T along with a bad case of jealousy. Tony's service dog could have gone with him to the gala. A long term boyfriend, maybe, but given the nature of the curse, Bucky would have had to stay very close to Tony all night.

_Overly attached girlfriend syndrome._

“Fuck,” Bucky swore. “I don't like it, there's too many opportunities at something public like this.”

“I know. But I can’t back out, not now. Look, we haven’t seen or heard anything since the explosion. I think he’s still lying low. Security will be briefed, and I’ll just put in a token appearance. Couple of hours, tops.”

Bucky allowed himself to be persuaded. It wasn't fair to Tony for him to be stuck in the Tower all the time anyway. He needed a life outside of work and taking care of his pet monster. Bucky slunk into his room. (Ha! Like he hadn't gone right back to sleeping with Tony as soon as he was a wolf again. Like he hadn't been clinging to the form as hard as he could so he had the excuse.) He pulled on sweatpants but left the robe on and open, not feeling much like anything more.

“Sometimes,” he said to Tony as he slouched back into the kitchen, “wish I could just stay one way or the other. It's like… I got two half lives an’ they don't fit together.”

Tony nodded sympathetically as he put a fresh plate of dinner on the table. “It’s got to suck,” he agreed. “If it helps at all, I like both your halves.”

“To sound weirdly like my sister,” Bucky said, “both halves of me like you, too.” He laughed a little at that, delighted when Tony's face lit up like a candle. “Although she meant the nerdy part of her and the girl part, since apparently some guys think they're different people or something. Shit. I ain't seen my sister since she was in high school.”

“I never had any siblings,” Tony admitted. “Do you miss her? We could try to look her up.”

“We kept close while I was in th’ Army but… after I started work with the agency...” Bucky said with a shrug. “I dunno. I guess I wanted to keep her away from all that. I didn't want her to see the…” _Monster._ “You know. The person I am now. Had all kinds of excuses, reasons. And after the curse... She's been told I'm dead. Killed in action. Aaand I'm putting you off your dinner. Sorry.”

Tony waved carelessly. “You should eat, too. Don’t you think she’d be glad to know you’re not really dead?”

Bucky picked at his sandwich, tugging off bits and dipping them in the sauce. “I guess. Yeah I mean… maybe. Lemme think about that one. I don't want her at risk.”

Bucky waved off their usual TV-watching with the excuse that he was exhausted. It wasn't a lie, exactly, he _was_ weary. But he also didn't want to deal with the awkward that was wanting to keep their sleeping habits the same as they'd been, like it didn't matter whether he was a wolf or a man. But it did matter and Tony hadn't invited him to share Tony’s bed.

In fact, of both of them, Tony was a hell of a lot more the victim than Bucky was. Bucky… at least, deserved what was happening to him.

He sighed, bid Tony a good night, and retreated to the guest room, and if he got up a few times during the night to check on Tony and ended up watching the man sleep from the relative safety of the doorway, that wasn't anyone’s business but his.

***

Bucky was quiet and subdued the next day. It was odd for Tony, because he’d gotten used to having Bucky-the-wolf practically glued to his side and full of boundless energy.

Bucky seemed tired, though, and Tony almost asked if he’d slept all right, but then stopped, because that sort of seemed like Tony was angling to sleep next to Bucky again. Which was not quite far enough from the truth for comfort. He settled for, “Still feeling under the weather?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I dunno. Closest I can come is like… comin’ down off like a really good coke high, you don't just feel worse than you did while you were on it, you feel fuckin’ worse than you did before you snorted in th’ first place.”

Tony grimaced; he’d left his party days behind him, but it was hard not to remember the morning afters, when it seemed like death was the only kindness left in the world. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You rest, or... whatever you think will help.”

Looking at Bucky sitting silently on the sofa, staring into nothingness, Tony wondered if Bucky might feel better for a hug. Some physical contact. Cuddle up and watch TV... Except Bucky had practically fled from their usual evening TV watching the previous night, so... maybe it was something only his wolf enjoyed.

“It's weird, you think?” Bucky asked suddenly. He flicked his fingers at the room in general. The space between them. “I mean I know the whole thing is weird, but… us. It's like. I don't know. I don't know how to person anymore.”

Tony grinned. “If you ask Pepper, I never did know how to person, so we’re well matched.”

There was a flare of something in Bucky's bright eyes at that. “So… uh. Would it be like super awkward… I kinda miss you when I'm like this. There's this… I dunno. Caution between us when I'm human and I know there's no _us_ , not like that. I know it's like, here this is awkward, make it stop. Not helpful. You just seem so far away and I don't… want it to be like that. Unless it's… I ain't tryin’ to be forward or… you know.”

“Oh.” Tony stared at Bucky, warmth spreading through him. “I thought it was maybe just your wolf that liked to be so close. I was trying to give you space. But I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I’m just, I mean... Yeah. Feel free to come closer. I kind of miss it, too.”

“Yeah, let's just… BBC America is doin’ a Dr. Who marathon. Wanna just chill until it's time for your thing?” Bucky looked at the space on the sofa next to him. “Seems like somethin’ you'd like.”

Tony grinned so hard it felt like his face might crack. “Absolutely.” He flung himself onto the sofa. “It’s sort of not fair that you’ve spent all this time hanging around me as a wolf,” he pointed out. “You know what kind of TV I watch, you hear me bitch about my day, you know everything important there is to know about me. What do I know about you? Not a hell of a lot.”

Bucky flipped through channels until there were Daleks. “Some stuff if I told you,” he said. “I’d have t’ kill you. The rest of it's kinda boring. I grew up in Brooklyn. Dirt poor, food stamps, welfare, second hand shoes poor. Played baseball for a while, thought that might be a way out. Good pitcher. Didn't pan out. Turned out though, th’ math in my head that makes me a good pitcher? Makes for one hell of a long range shooter.”

“Thus, the military,” Tony surmised, “and subsequent alphabet soup agency.”

“Yeah. Like I said, kinda dull. All th’ excitin’ stuff’s fucking classified. Had a girl for a while. Didn't work out. I was too gay, tryin’ to pretend not to be. An’ Nat… well she was in the game. Deep. Real deep. Months would go by when I didn't even know if she was alive, much less what country she was in, or even who she was working for.”

“I dunno. I worked. I baked. I tried to pretend like I belonged somewhere. Go to nightclubs and pick up the hottest dude I could find. I mean it was a game. It never meant anything. Got to thinking that the work was all there was. 'Til you.”

“Me? I mean, I’m glad I’m not just, you know, another job, or a meal ticket, or whatever. I’m just not sure how I got to be any more than that.” Tony shook his head. “I like you. I like both of you. You’re smart and fun and sweet and...” He waved a hand around, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “You’re sort of trapped with me, though, and I don’t know how this magic shit works. Is your wolf attached to me just because it thinks I’m your owner? Are you attached because your wolf is? Just how big is the power imbalance, here?”

“I don't know th’ answers that'd, you know, fix it. I think… I think my wolf is more honest than I am. He doesn't understand… you know, protecting your emotions. If you hurt him, he ain't gonna brood about it. He's just gonna leave. Good people are good, bad people are bad. There ain't a lot of room for nuance.” Bucky didn't look at him, kept his eyes on the screen. “If I had ever seen you in a club, I’d have tried my damnedest to pick you up. So I mean, there's that. Which don't translate to wolf at all. He thinks simple. Mate. Pack. Pups. I like kids more’n I used to. Never did before. No patience for it. But now?”

“I noticed that you -- wolf-you -- seemed to really like playing with the kids at the park,” Tony agreed. “I like older kids, the kind you can talk to. They have much more finely-tuned bullshit meters than most adults give them credit for, and they’re refreshingly uninterested in doing things just because they’ve always been done. But if... I mean, if this is something you want to, to consider, then I’m right there with you. I already told you before, you’re pretty smoking hot. Human-you, that is. Not that kind of interest in the wolf.”

“Hmph,” Bucky joked. “I'll have you know, I'm like prime choice alpha for a wolf.”

Tony snorted. “I have no doubt. But Jack Harkness I am not.” He waved at the TV screen.

“Yeah, no. You're much hotter than John Barrowman,” Bucky assured him. “And um… this might be our best bet for… you know. That. I still don't know what all triggers the Change. Except during the new moon, I can't. And during the full moon, I can't not.” Bucky shifted on the sofa carefully, like Tony was a wounded animal he didn't want to frighten.

Tony raised his eyebrow, amused. “That was the least smooth line I’ve heard in a long time,” he teased. “If you’re hoping to get lucky tonight, you might want to brush up on your game.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I don't usually gotta say nothin’.” He scrubbed both hands over his face, tugged his hair around until it looked less sloppy and more fashionably disheveled. “Let me demonstrate.”

The tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his top lip and he gave Tony a set of huge, sultry bedroom eyes. He smiled, not quite a knowing smirk but maybe its second cousin. Jerked his chin toward the bedroom, eyes and mouth and tongue all asking the same question. _Hey gorgeous, wanna?_

It should have been ridiculous. Tony knew, _knew_ mind you, that it was an act. It should have been laughable. Except in all the ways it wasn't an act at all, and every single one of those ways went right to Tony's gut like a lick of fire.

“Yeah, that’s much more effective,” Tony said roughly. He reached out to grab the collar of Bucky’s bathrobe and pulled, tugging Bucky closer, until Tony could feel the warmth of Bucky’s breath skating over his mouth. “ _Much_ more effective.”

Bucky made a sound, like a growl, almost like his wolf, possessive and heated and eager, and then his mouth was on Tony's. Tony had, on more than a few occasions, wondered what kissing Bucky would be like, but the reality of the thing left him dizzy, half-hard, and wanting more.

His mouth was soft, gentle, nuzzling at Tony's lips, encouraging Tony to open up, _surrender_. For a wild moment, Tony found himself remembering a character in an old science fiction story who reportedly made women pass out when he kissed then, because the force of his entire attention was too much to take.

He'd scoffed. Talk about ego from the writer's obvious self insert. But at the same time, even then, he'd wondered. Would he find someone ever, who kissed _Tony_? Not _Stark_. Not _Howard's son_. Not the CEO or the tech wiz or the rich playboy.

But Tony?

Not likely.

Until Bucky's mouth touched his, until Bucky's hands were pulling him closer, eager. Until those lovely eyes fluttered closed and Bucky out and out moaned into Tony's mouth.

Tony swallowed the sound and returned one of his own. His tongue darted out, brushed Bucky’s lips, coaxed Bucky in. It was like tasting heaven, like sinking into a warm bath, like being wrapped in a symphony of pleasure. “Oh God,” he gasped.

Tony was all the way from zero to “forget the bed, the sofa will do” when his phone buzzed. There were like four people in the whole world that his phone would actually buzz for. Rhodey was back in Afghanistan, Bucky was right there, practically crawling into Tony's lap, Happy was getting the limo ready… for the damn thing that Pepper was probably calling to remind him about.

“Noooooo,” Tony groaned, but he reached out with one arm, groping until he found the phone. He answered it with a swipe. “I’m almost ready,” he lied.

“I'm delighted to hear it,” Pepper said. “Dubious, doubtful, and other d words too while we're at it. Picture me, here. At the door. Tapping my foot.” She hung up.

“I'm gonna blame you for this,” Bucky decided, squirming once on the sofa, letting the robe hang closed, not disguising the tent in those sweats at all.

“Okay,” Tony agreed. He leaned in and kissed Bucky again, brief but warm. “Just... hold that thought. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” Another kiss.

“Consider it held,” Bucky told him, hand going down to rest on Tony's hip. “Hurry back.”

Tony lingered, looking at the way Bucky’s eyes shone. But Pepper was waiting, and that was a fool’s game. He made a frustrated sound, kissed Bucky one more time, and ran for his bedroom to change. “This stupid event has the _worst_ timing!”

On the screen, the Master died while Tony's favorite Doctor sobbed.

Worst. Timing. Ever.

***

Watching cheesy British sci-fi wasn’t nearly as much fun without Tony sitting there like the world’s sexiest fanboy. Tony knew a lot of random trivia, too. Not just about the show or the actors, but science and history and geography. He shared out those little nuggets, not condescendingly at all, but just thrilled to _share_. To be listened to.

Bucky was discovering that a lot of his life was like that. Not as much fun when Tony wasn't around. Like there had been a hole there, a hollow space where someone belonged and Bucky hadn't even known _existed_ until Tony just sat right down and _fit_.

“Uuuuug,” Bucky said, staring up at the ceiling. “You're pathetic, Barnes.”

_Overly attached girlfriend syndrome._

He flipped through the channels. Stark Tower had a custom cable package. Basically everything. If it was broadcast on the planet, Tony's satellite network picked it up.

Which was how he found himself watching some crappy live celebrity show with clips from the gala, interspersed with dual language commentary.

He might not even have noticed, except Tony's name was scrawling on the bottom bar. And Bucky was pathetic. Obsessed.

Also bored and horny if he was being completely honest.

The screen cut to show Tony. God, he looked positively delicious in that tuxedo, though the smile on his face was practiced, not the sweet, spontaneous smile he gave Bucky. There was a woman on his arm, someone Bucky didn’t recognize, a blonde with a sharp, calculating smile and a dress cut nearly down to her navel. Tony waved for the camera, then bent slightly so the woman could murmur something in his ear. He chuckled a little and patted her hand where it rested on his arm.

Bucky didn't even recognize the fear-anger-pain in his chest for a moment. Until he did. _Jealousy_. Which was stupid. He didn't know that girl. Tony probably didn't even know her. It was a blind date for show that Pepper had picked out. Probably with less interest than Pepper picked out a new pair of shoes.

There was no reason to be worried. Tony was coming right back.

“Jesus, Barnes, get a grip,” he told himself.

And yet, the girl was clinging ridiculously close to Tony's side. A brief bio popped up. Tony Stark’s he knew, owner of Stark Industries, head of R&D for the same. People magazine's top ten sexiest singles. Recent winner of the Apogee Award.

Bucky almost waited for “more details and speculations on Tony's lady friend” right after this commercial break.

Bucky sighed and flicked the channel. “Not important,” he groaned. “She's just an escort.” Not a paid companion maybe, but someone for whom this event opened doors, gained them access, and someone whose connections or goodwill would be of some used to Tony's company.

It wasn't even that Tony was paying that much attention to her, but that she had the freedom to _be there._ She could dance with Tony and get a drink and powder her nose. She probably had a life, a job. A purpose. Bucky's whole life revolved around the curse.

_You deserve this. You did this to yourself and you have no one else to blame._

But maybe, just maybe… if he deserved the curse… maybe he deserved all of it.

Tony included.

Bucky gave himself a shake and peeled himself off the sofa. Tony would be home soon. And Bucky wanted to be ready for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Tony is thinking of is _Stranger in a Strange Land_ by Robert Heinlein and is probably one of his least terrible novels that every gatekeeping dudebro will call classic sci-fi.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the smut averse: Most of this chapter is sexytimes. :D

Tony swanned through the gala on autopilot, show smile firmly in place as he waved to cameras, signed autographs, and gave the same speech over and over again to reporters and attendees about why the Foundation’s work was important. He danced with his date, flattered a few matrons, drank some champagne, and watched the clock.

As soon as two hours had passed, he excused himself. Made his way back to his car, watched over by the ever-vigilant Happy, and climbed in.

It wasn’t until they pulled out into the traffic that Tony let himself dwell on the thought of moon-bright eyes and soft lips, the scrape of stubble and the press of firm muscle under his hands. It was all he could do to bid Happy a calm good night, to walk instead of run for the elevator. His skin was sparking with electric desire before he even reached the penthouse.

The hallway still smelled like new paint and sawdust, a mute reminder of everything that had happened. Thumbprint against the upgraded security panel, and Tony was back in his penthouse.

The living room lights were dimmed and candles provided a bit of light. Tony wondered where Bucky had found something as mundane as candles, but maybe Pepper had thought them necessary for dining room ambience or something. Not that Tony usually entertained in his own living space. He needed somewhere safe and away from the world. Usually that was his workshop.

“Hey,” Bucky said, stepping out of the shadows. “Wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” He’d changed clothes and his hair was still a bit damp from the shower, curling around the edges. When Tony stepped closer to him, Bucky didn’t hesitate, letting Tony walk right into the circle of his arms. It took Tony a moment to place it, but then he realized Bucky smelled like Tony, same soap, shampoo. Underneath was the warm, clean smell of Bucky, only slightly reminiscent of timberwolf.

Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s throat, dropping a few soft kisses along his jaw, “Have fun?”

Tony tipped his head back, encouraging more of those kisses. “It was all right,” he said. “Not where I wanted to be.” His hands slid up Bucky’s chest, around Bucky’s neck and into that soft hair, just the right length to grab onto. He let himself lean against Bucky, trusting Bucky to support and balance them, enjoying the firmness of Bucky’s body against his own.

He was pulled even closer, until nothing was between them except clothes and heat. Bucky thoroughly inspected Tony’s face, dropping little light kisses on his forehead, eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose. Playful, somehow, reminding him of the way Bucky’s wolf would sometimes nose at him. Tony wondered if Bucky’s wolf encouraged new mannerisms, or if they were just wolf to man translations. It didn’t matter, really. Tony let his head loll back as Bucky mouthed at his throat, licking along the vulnerable hollow and nipping soft at the join between his shoulder and neck. “Want you,” Bucky told him, like it wasn’t obvious, or like Tony needed to hear it. Or maybe that Bucky needed to say it aloud for it to be real.

It wasn’t something Tony had needed to hear, particularly, but it sent a frisson of anticipation through his body anyway. “Yes,” Tony said, “yes, want this, want you.” He tugged Bucky’s mouth back up to his, parted his lips to let Bucky in, and lost himself in that slick heat, the soft wet slide of tongues and lips only enhanced by the occasional rough scrape of facial hair. “God, yes.”

“You are so damn gorgeous,” Bucky murmured against the side of Tony’s neck. “Not a damn hair out of place. You got no idea how bad that makes me want to _mess you up_. Tony…” He licked at the skin just above Tony’s collar and started working the tie undone, tugging it loose and discarding it on the floor. One hand was in Tony’s carefully styled hair, tugging at it lightly, pushing it into disarray.

He teased at Tony’s mouth, sucking in Tony’s bottom lip, and then ravaged at his mouth until Tony was breathless, before going back to those soft, playful pecks.

Tony groaned, hands roaming over Bucky’s chest and shoulders. Slid them down Bucky’s sides and tugged at the hem of his shirt, teasing at the smooth skin there.

As if the simple skin to skin contact had lit a fire in Bucky, Tony found himself being practically swept away. Bucky’s tongue plunged into his mouth, tasted, took. Allowed no escape, even if Tony had been likely to want it. Which he absolutely didn’t. Bucky kissed him and kissed him until all thought was gone, and Tony was clinging desperately to stay upright. And through the whole process, Bucky was slowly, steadily, undressing him, unfastening the plackets on the side of the cummerbund, opening buttons, tugging his belt free from its loops. Tony was completely disheveled, shirt open and half pushed down his arms, pants open and only just clinging to his hips. Boxers barely doing their job, as well, tenting out with eagerness as Bucky dipped one wicked hand into the front of Tony’s trousers.

Bucky cupped Tony’s cock and Tony gasped out, “Fuck!” Heat flooded his veins, made his legs tremble under him. He shoved his hands up under Bucky’s shirt, pushing it up, over Bucky’s head. Bucky let go of Tony exactly long enough to pull it the rest of the way off and then was pressed against Tony again, stroking and kissing and tasting Tony’s skin, that hand back in Tony’s pants, tracing the outline of Tony’s cock through his boxers. “Oh god,” Tony groaned, twisting and writhing in Bucky’s grasp. “Bed,” he said, somewhere between a plea and a demand. “I can’t stand up much longer.”

“I wouldn’t let you fall,” Bucky said. “But ain’t ‘xactly a hardship t’ lay you down, neither.” Bucky kissed him again, then, keeping one hand on Tony’s elbow in case he wobbled too hard, let Tony go. “God, look at you, you make my fuckin’ mouth water.” He nudged Tony toward the bedroom.

Tony didn’t need much in the way of encouragement. He looped his fingers through Bucky’s belt loops and backed into his bedroom, pulling Bucky along in his wake. “You’re pretty appetizing, yourself.” He hit the bed and kept going, falling back and pulling Bucky down on top of him.

Bucky laughed, carefree, joyful. “You make me feel s’ damn young,” he told Tony, mock-seriously. “This ain’t exactly somethin’ you ought to encourage, gonna shoot off right here in my jeans if you don’t cool your jets there, Tony.” He didn’t really seem to be heeding his own words, because laying on top of Tony, cradled between Tony’s thighs, Bucky rubbed down, his hips rolling languidly, pressing himself against Tony’s thigh.

Christ, talk about mouth-watering... Tony arched up, stropping himself against Bucky’s body. “You want me to cool my jets, you need to stop being so hot,” he threw back, which wasn’t the best line, but he didn’t even care. He occupied himself with stroking down the planes of Bucky’s back, tucking his fingers down the back of Bucky’s jeans, nuzzling in to suck at Bucky’s throat.

“Sorry, boss, came standard with the package,” Bucky said. And then he was sliding down Tony’s body, pushing at Tony’s clothes, rubbing that jaw against Tony’s chest and belly, headed straight down until he was lipping at the open vee of Tony’s trousers. He tugged at Tony’s pants until they were down around his thighs. “Feel like I’m openin’ a birthday present,” he said, and before Tony had time to respond to that, Bucky’s mouth was on him.

Fiery little licks and soft, wet kisses, down Tony’s shaft, his thighs trapped by his pants, keeping him pinned in place while Bucky went down on him. Obscene, filthy, wet noises mingled with Bucky’s heated moans and cooling breaths.

Tony couldn’t do anything but push his hands into Bucky’s hair and hold on as if for dear life, letting each touch, each movement, each sound ratchet his desire higher and higher, until he was undulating into it, breath coming in sharp gasps and needy moans and breathless curses and praise all tangled up together. The world around them dissolved into nothing, until there was nothing left that mattered but the two of them, the constant assault of sensation and the rapidly-building knot of heat in Tony’s groin. “Fffff-- oh, _fuck_ , if you want me to last,” Tony warned, half-whimpering, half-balanced on the cusp.

Bucky was the whole world in a single moment, and his fingers joined his tongue, getting them nice and wet. “You, uh,” Bucky murmured, pulling off Tony with an obscene slurp, curling his tongue around the head, a lash of sensation before asking, “How do you… What’s the call, boss?” His wet fingers slid down Tony’s dick, traced the line down to rub Tony’s perineum, before going all the way back to circle Tony’s hole. “An’ don’t you make any jokes about doggy style or I will end you.”

Tony couldn’t help laughing, though it ended on a groan. “No,” he agreed, “face to face. I want to see you.” He twisted away reluctantly to paw through the nightstand drawer for lube. “Want you in me.”

Bucky stood up for a moment, peeled himself out of those sinfully tight jeans. “Damn, look at you,” he murmured. “Look like you been wrung out and hung up wet, and I could jus’ eat you up, holy Christ. How did I ever--” He took a deep breath, like he was settling himself. “You got a condom? I don’t think this werewolf shit is contagious, but god knows what th’ fuck is in my bloodstream, neither.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s... a good thought.” More rummaging in the drawer. Tony found a packet and pulled it out, squinting at the date in the dim light. “Okay, yeah, good.” He sat up and tore the packet open, reached for Bucky, stroking his fingertips up Bucky’s length. “Christ,” he swore. “This a werewolf thing, or have you always been this well-endowed?” Bucky smelled good, hot and masculine and clean.

Bucky looked down at himself as if he were double checking, then cupped his hand around his own cock and stroked it a few times. “Feels th’ same to me,” he said. He shuddered at the sensation of Tony’s hand on him, stretching up onto his toes, chest pushing forward, arching into it. “Yeah, you jus’ do that, boss, like that, I-- oh Christ!”

“Yeah?” Tony felt a burst of ridiculous pride at seeing Bucky so affected. He kept moving his hand, testing the sensitive spots, learning the weight and the shape of it. “You look good like this.” Bucky arched again, biting his lip until it was red, and Tony hummed. “Wonder how long I could keep it up,” he mused. “Just keep you balanced on the edge.”

Bucky opened one eye to look at him. “Bout two minutes, right now, Jesus, Tony, I ain’t--” He pushed into it, moaning wantonly. “Lovers ain’t been thick on th’ ground recently.” Finally, he batted Tony’s hand away and crawled onto the bed, pushing and nudging until they were stretched out properly, Bucky with one hand on the headboard, looming over Tony with predatory eagerness.

Tony might have felt crowded, caged, trapped, but he didn’t. Bucky looming over him made him feel safe and protected instead. The bright light in Bucky’s eyes made him feel cherished, wanted. Tony reached up, cupped Bucky’s face in his hand, traced the line of Bucky’s lips with his thumb. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Gonna touch you now,” he told Tony, and then did, lubing up his fingers and slowly teased a circle around Tony’s hole, rubbing over the surface, pushing light to test the muscle. Bucky’s eyes were wide, practically glowing in the candlelight, fae, somehow, reflective like an animal’s. He breached with the tip of one finger, then drew back, seemingly content to drive Tony wild with need.

By the time Bucky was fucking into him with two fingers, Tony was slick with sweat, shaking all over, wanting Bucky to get on with it, wanting Bucky to never stop. His aim was uncanny and he was utterly entranced, listening to all the noises Tony was making in response. “I gotcha boss,” Bucky told him, thumbing at Tony’s rim. “Ready for me?”

“More than,” Tony panted. He arched his hips, lifting one leg to curl around Bucky’s hip, tugging impatiently. “Need you, now.”

Bucky shifted a little, pulled his fingers free. A sly, almost smug grin painted over his lips as Tony whined and clenched at the sudden emptiness. Bucky spread a little more lube on Tony, some on the condom, and then he was kissing Tony hard, mouth eager and tongue wickedly clever. He got the tip of himself pressed against Tony’s entrance. Pushed a little, then sucked all the breath out of Tony’s lungs.

While Tony was dealing with an unexpected dizziness and burning in his chest, tore his mouth free to gasp, Bucky thrust in, one long, hard, slick slide. It burned, ached a bit.

“There, there you are,” Bucky crooned, holding still and letting Tony’s body adjust. “I gotcha. You jus’ breathe, an’ tell me when you’re good. God, so tight, so hot, Tony, you feel s’ damn good.”

Bucky felt too big, too much, like he was splitting Tony open, the burn bordering on unbearable. Tony panted and gasped, trying to focus on Bucky’s face, on that sweet, tender expression in his eyes, the way he ducked his head to sprinkle gentle kisses over Tony’s forehead and cheeks and mouth.

He was on the verge of deciding it wasn’t going to work, that it had been too long for him, that Bucky was too big -- and then the burn faded, that sensation of something pressing on his lungs falling away. Tony drew a deep breath and let it out, and felt the ache subside, leaving behind only pressure and pleasure. “Oh,” he sighed, “okay, yeah, that’s... Yeah, that’s good.”

Bucky kissed him again, a soft nuzzle at Tony’s mouth like an apology, and then he moved. Subtle, slick, shallow motions that barely seemed to rub at Tony’s entrance a little, teased at his prostate, slow, but thorough. Bucky rocked them together, one hand under Tony’s shoulders to pull him down, the other keeping Bucky braced against the headboard. “You’re so sweet,” Bucky whispered, “Perfect slice of heaven, right here. Could stay like this forever.”

Each little bump and scrape against his prostate made Tony see stars. He dragged in air, hot in his lungs from being trapped between them. The soft movement of Bucky’s body was utter perfection, exactly right, driving Tony’s need higher and higher until he was nearly whimpering, clutching at Bucky’s back and shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. “More,” he begged, “fuck, Bucky...”

As if Tony has issued some sort of challenge, or command, Bucky started moving faster. One hard, swift thrust, and then a few slower, shallow ones, Another deep, some sort of rhythm that Tony tried to match, little pulses of sensation, followed by full, hard, fast until Tony caught the motion, moved with Bucky instead of against him and it was like a switch-back path on some mountain somewhere, curves and steady inclines, bringing him higher than he could have gotten just plowing straight ahead.

Bucky gripped the headboard with both hands, Tony holding on for dear life, and slammed home, jackhammering into Tony with abandon, their thighs slapping together like applause. Bucky got a hand between them, teasing Tony’s cock at a completely different rhythm, making Tony a stranger in his own body, not sure how, or when, or even _if_ to move, lost to pleasure, until he could only hold on and accept it, wave after wave of it.

“I got you honey, I got you,” Bucky was murmuring to him, “you're so fine, I’m so damn lucky, I… oh god, _Tony_ \--”

Everything boiled up and over, the overwhelming sensations igniting into a flare of white-hot pleasure that raced through Tony’s limbs. He threw his head back and screamed, his whole body clenching tight and then utterly relaxing, leaving him limp and trembling and wrecked. “Oh _god_.” It came out as something like a croak and a whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear it himself.

Bucky rocked him again, two, three times, his breath hot and needy in Tony’s ear. “Oh, my Christ,” he moaned, then one more hard thrust, pushing deep into Tony’s body. His arms trembled, and he collapsed onto Tony, panting for air.

Tony supposed he could protest Bucky’s weight pressing him down, but he could still breathe, mostly, and it didn’t seem very urgent. He pushed his nose into Bucky’s hair and waited, content to lightly stroke Bucky’s arm, which was all he could reach easily. He didn’t have enough energy left for more.

“You are a damn miracle,” Bucky said, drawing back and then rolling off, sending a rush of cooler air over Tony’s overheated skin. He settled on his back, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling like a smug bastard.

“That felt pretty miraculous,” Tony agreed. He groped around on the nightstand for a tissue to wipe himself off. “That was... Fantastic.”

“Gonna just… like, never move again,” Bucky joked, which he promptly made a lie of by rolling over onto his side and leaning up on his elbow to gaze at Tony. He opened his mouth several times to speak, appeared to be rewriting it in his head, before he finally managed, “You’re somethin’ else, Tony. I ain’t… playing th’ game this time. I… don’t even know, but this meant somethin’.”

“That’s good,” Tony said before he could think about it too much. “Because I feel the same.” He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so used to having Bucky at his side, when it had become so comfortable that he felt half-naked without Bucky there, but it was true.


	16. Chapter 16

For the first time, Bucky woke up in his human form, Tony coiled around him like some sort of demented naga, and Bucky didn’t feel the urge to curse and slink off into another room.

In fact, he felt pretty damn good, if a bit hungry. He wanted to wake Tony up with kisses, caress and pet him until he was purring, but Bucky had a pretty good handle on Tony.

Coffee first.

That was like Tony’s unbreakable rule; his body ran on high octane caffeine or it didn’t run at all. Bucky gently untangled himself from Tony, tucking the sheet back over him and taking stock of the suck-marks that were fading on Tony’s shoulder with a buzz of pride. Bucky popped a pod in the coffee maker, pushed go, and hit the shower for a few minutes, just enough to wash off the sweat and the traces of lube and semen from the previous evening.

Tony’s coffee was ready, and Bucky thumbed another pod in place, holding the towel around his hips with one hand. He deposited the cup on the bedside table. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Tony opened one eye, the other buried in the pillow, and looked at Bucky. He grunted and pushed himself upright and picked up the coffee cup, cradling it in both hands for a moment before taking a sip. Another sip, and he opened his eyes again and looked Bucky over with a hint of interested appraisal. “Nice,” he commented, gaze lingering on Bucky’s abs. He took another sip of coffee, this one more like a gulp, and dragged his eyes up to Bucky’s face with a hint of a smile. “Morning.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that stretched his mouth, the softness that made his chest ache and his heart beat faster under his ribs. “Hang on, mine’s probably done,” he said, and he only just rolled his eyes when Tony snagged the corner of his towel, letting his momentum pull the twist free, leaving him bare as he walked away. He didn’t bother grabbing it, just let Tony watch his ass as he headed back to the kitchen, flipping Tony off negligently with one hand as he went.

Tony’s laugh followed him to the kitchen.

When Bucky came back, Tony was sitting on the side of the bed, feet on the floor, sheet pooled across his waist, scratching lazily at his hair and staring at nothing. He looked up as Bucky came in, though, and smiled. “Waking up to coffee and beautiful men,” he commented. “I might have died and gone to heaven.”

Bucky reached out a hand and checked Tony’s pulse, laying his fingers over the artery in Tony’s neck. “Regret to inform you that you’re still alive,” he said. Bucky was about the furthest thing from heaven possible, really. But the thought still counted. “You wanna go take a walk? My legs are gettin’ restless. Probably be able to change back tonight or tomorrow morning, if you want.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not. Tony was safer when Bucky was wolfed out, fewer excuses needed to be made, and Bucky could get away with a lot of ridiculous behavior. At the same time, there were decided benefits to being able to use his thumbs.

He kinda wanted to use them on Tony right now, matter of fact.

Tony finished the last of his coffee, giving Bucky a look at the tantalizing line of his throat, and set the mug aside. “Walk, sure,” he agreed, yawning. “Though I feel like controlled changes should be at your discretion, not mine.”

“We’ll play it by ear, then,” Bucky said. “You still need a full time bodyguard, until we find this maniac. An’ uh, you probably oughta call me James in public. ‘Less you want someone askin’ why you named your dog after your boyfriend.” He gave Tony a sheepish sort of grin, wondering if Tony was going to object to the appellation of boyfriend or not. They’d made jokes about it before, but this was the first time Bucky thought the word might actually apply. “An’ tell people that I’m allergic to him, or something, I guess. If they ask.”

Tony nodded. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. He stretched, then threw back the blankets and walked into the bathroom, unselfconscious in his nudity. “Have to call Pepper and have her spin up the PR team anyway, if I’m going to suddenly be seen with you.”

Bucky watched Tony walk away, admiring the way that totally tight, fit ass swayed as he walked, hips moving enticingly. He wondered if Tony would mind getting pounced on and blown in the shower. His mouth watered at the thought.

Hmm. May as well find out. Wasn’t like their walk was on a schedule or anything. He drained the bottom half of his mug in a few quick swallows, and followed Tony into the bathroom after the toilet flushed and the water came on.

***

Tony’s head was still spinning a little as they took the elevator down to street level. He grinned stupidly at his foggy reflection in the elevator doors. Bucky was apparently determined to utterly spoil him. It was nice. Better than nice. Tony looked forward to returning the favor later, but in the meantime, he was basking in the afterglow.

Once outside, they turned in the opposite direction from the little park where Bucky’s wolf liked to play. Tony didn’t need the morning regulars or the cafe staff to get any more pieces to the puzzle than absolutely necessary.

But it was nice to be outside. The weather was turning crisp and cold, and there was a little bite in the air that made holding hands especially nice. Tony wondered how long it would be before the first pictures started showing up online, before some blogger or journalist approached them to ask for a comment. Pepper would probably scold him for taking Bucky -- or rather, James -- out in public without warning the PR team first, but that was a problem for Future Tony.

There was a buildup of fallen leaves in the gutter; city maintenance hadn’t yet vacuumed them up and turned them into mulch. Bucky hopped down into them, laughing at the crunch. When Tony smirked at him -- it was hard not to, even as a man, Bucky was decidedly playful and spontaneous. Something that had been lacking from Tony’s life -- Bucky kicked a whole pile of leaves at Tony, dusting him with chips of dead plant life.

Tony groused about it, brushing himself off with his free hand, and tried not to smile. He didn’t think he was very successful, given Bucky’s carefree laughter. “Brat,” he said fondly. “Get back up here before you step on a rat or something equally disgusting.”

“It’s weird,” Bucky said, looking round the park, the couples and the nannies with their charges. “You’d think, as time went on, I’d feel more… oppressed by what’s happened. Like my choices are gone, or somethin’, but instead, I feel more free. Like, this lifted part of m’ burden. I deserve… I mean, you know, I did those things. Put whatever name you want on it, I’ve… taken a lot of lives, destroyed a lot of families. An’ now I can pay for it, an’ maybe find peace with it.”

“Whatever works for you,” Tony said. “I’m still not convinced that you deserve it, but I’ve never really lived in a world where people get what they deserve, good _or_ bad. If you can make peace with it, with yourself, then I guess that’s good.”

Bucky had been an agent at some point, Tony knew. A spy, an assassin. But even if he’d made different choices, those people would probably still be dead. Bucky might be slightly more responsible than the gun he used, but in the end, someone else was making that call. Bucky was a tool in those hands, the United States government and whatever they decided needed to happen for peace, or prosperity or whatever motivation they sold themselves on.

They walked on in silence for a while, and then Bucky’s hand tightened in Tony’s.

His eyes were cool, almost casual. “If I told you to run, leave me behind no matter what happened, would you do it?”

Tony looked around, trying to make it seem he was just enjoying the scenery. Nothing jumped out at him as unusual. “Probably not,” he admitted. “You’re on a leash, remember?” It was wrapped around Tony’s wrist three or four times to make it less obvious. It would take several seconds to unwind, and whatever had Bucky’s back up, it sounded like the sort of thing where a few seconds would make all the difference.

“Then we better go talk to him,” Bucky sighed. “That bitch is laughin’ at me, I swear to God. She’s got me in a crystal ball or somethin’ and I’m like daytime TV to her. We’re going to go over to that park bench, no, not that one, the empty one. I want me between you an’ him. You sit on my outside, got it?”

“Whatever you say,” Tony agreed. “Is it T?”

“Ain’t after you,” Bucky said. “He’s here for me. Tony, I mean it, if shooting starts, give some consideration t’ running away.” His eyes flicked from spot to spot, searching.

They moved toward the bench, casual. From across the sidewalk, a huge blonde man got up, folded his paper in half. He was wearing shades and a tan baseball cap, an ancient Brooklyn Dodgers tee and khakis.

“That’s a hell of a disguise, Steve,” Bucky said as he sat down on the bench and so-called Steve joined them, sitting on Bucky’s other side. “You look just like you, only at a baseball game.”

Someone Bucky knew personally. Someone from his old unit, then. The ones who had turned on him. Tony’s teeth clenched, and he groped in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t do that, Mr. Stark,” Steve said. “It’s a nice tie, I’d hate for it to get messed up.”

Bucky inhaled sharply.”Who’s with you?”

“Sam,” Steve said. “We ‘ve been out to the dog park twice, you didn’t show. Guess you haven’t lost all your skills. You’re switching up your routine. That’s good. You might live longer.”

“Not if your boss has anything to say about it,” Tony growled.

Steve shot Tony a startled glance. “I’m not here on Fury’s word,” he said.

“Yeah, don’t know that I’m ready to buy it,” Bucky said. “Go on, take it out. Show it to me. I can feel it on you, so don’t tell me you don’t have one.”

Steve sighed, reached behind him and yanked out a-- was that a fucking _dagger_? -- from a sheath under his shirt.

“Nice,” Bucky said, loading it with sarcasm. “How’d you put that on a requisition form, I wonder?”

“Does the agency have a Department of Magical Relics?” Tony wondered, sarcasm sharpening his tone.

“Knives are more your thing than mine,” Steve said, “but I wasn’t sure how human you’d be. This is good, Buck. It’s real good. Why don’t you come in, let us help you?”

“Help? Help how?” Bucky stared at him. “And take those stupid glasses off, you look like someone’s dad.”

Without the sunglasses, Steve looked like a young Robert Redford, with wide, guileless eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a cleft chin someone could balance a shot glass on. Not to mention a chest you could bounce a quarter off of, the shirt a good size or two too small. What, did they raise good looking guys on a breeding farm and send them to CIA spy school or what?

“I’m pretty sure we’ve heard everything we need to hear,” Tony said.

“No, no, give him a minute, I want to know how Steve Rogers thinks the damn agency is going to help me with with a case of lycanthropy.”

“If nothing else, you should be in a secure facility, Buck, during your changes,” Steve said, and now he looked like a damn labrador puppy. “You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you? I’m your friend, Buck, listen to me, you’ve known me most of your damn _life_. I know you don’t want to be a _monster._ ”

“He’s _not_ a monster,” Tony snapped. “He’s saved my life at least twice, now. And at least one other person. He’s a good man, and if you think you spooks are going to stuff him in a fucking _cage_ to be isolated and fucking _studied_ like some goddamn science experiment, then you can think again.”

“I took more lives--” Bucky said, “but I ain’t th’ only one, Steve. Don’t act like your hands are clean.”

“Yeah, okay, we’ve all done things that maybe didn’t let us sleep so well,” Steve said, “but I think we were serving the greater good. What’ll be served if you attack Mr. Stark here, or kids in the park?”

“Except in self defense, I ain't hurt nobody, Steve. Sure, this ain't how I wanted things to go, but... I got a second chance, maybe. Let me have it. I ain’t gonna volunteer to sit in prison, an’ I sure as hell ain’t gonna be Fury’s watchdog. I ain’t coming in. What’s your move? Gonna have Sam put a bullet in me from five hundred yards, _caw caw motherfucker_. I know you can hear me, Sam. How’s Sharon doing?”

“She’s fine,” Steve said. “She brought flowers to your funeral. She and Sam are engaged now.”

“Yeah? Good for them.”

“You seem to be taking your buddy’s continued existence pretty calmly,” Tony observed.

“Buck’s a survivor,” Steve said. “Look, I said I’m not here on Fury’s orders. You don't want to come in, I’m not going to force it. It’s not really my thing. This isn’t the life you wanted, Buck. I wish you’d let me help you.”

“Come to me with an actual game plan, Steve,” Bucky said, “I mean, aren’t you the man with the plan? And then we’ll talk. But for now, this is the life I’ve chosen.” He glanced at Tony. “That we’ve chosen. Together.”

“We done? I think we’re done here,” Tony said. He stood up, his hand still in Bucky’s, and tugged Bucky to his feet. “See you around.”

“Buck, be careful. If I can find you, Fury’s teams can, too.”

“Well, then talk to him,” Bucky said. “I’m retired. I don’t do that anymore. I just want to be left alone.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” Steve said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky leaned very close to Steve’s ear. “Still hate you, bird brain.”

“Why do you always gotta taunt the man with the gun pointed right at your head?” A little tinny voice came from Steve’s earpiece as Bucky plucked it out of its resting spot.

“Charming friends you have,” Tony said. “I bet the parties were a riot. Possibly literally.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Tony’s hand as they walked away. “Steve… he, well it’s complicated, or at least, it was. Now, lots of things are simple. And he doesn’t get to decide how I need help.”

“No,” Tony agreed. “He has any constructive ideas, he can bring them to you -- _without_ a magic knife, Jesus _Christ_ \-- and let you decide.” He grimaced. “Is that silver thing actually a problem? Should I lock up the good tableware?”

“Yes and no. I mean, don’t stab me with the butter knife,” Bucky joked, but he turned a corner and was breathing a little easier. “One of these days, Sam’s gonna shoot me. I just know it.”

“Seriously, what the hell kind of friendships do you have?”

“It’s only fair,” Bucky said, reasonably, “I kicked him off a building once. Relax, it was fine, He was just being a baby about the urban parachute training.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, okay. So what about the butter knife?”

“The witch told me,” Bucky said, “wounds from silver don’t heal. Anything else, up to a death blow, I’ll heal from eventually. As long as I don’t die immediately, I’ll get better. Unless it’s silver.”

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” Tony said. “There’s nothing you can do about that at all? Christ, I mean, god forbid you accidentally stab your finger with, I don’t know, some girl’s lost earring.”

“I’ll bleed to death a drop at a time,” Bucky said. “If it makes you feel better, I can sense it, when it’s close by.”

“I mean, it makes me feel a little better about your safety. It does not make me feel even a little bit better about magic that makes no sense.”

“Might well be the definition of magic,” Bucky said. “Shit that doesn’t make sense and works anyway. Magic, and like, steroids.”

“Oh, I’m thoroughly convinced that about 80% of modern medicine is magic in disguise. Every time I read a study on it, it’s all about how something that wasn’t supposed to work at all just blew all the other trials out of the water or something.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Bucky said. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “On the plus side, Steve doesn’t lie. He’s a terrible liar. He’s not here because Fury sent him. I can’t decide if that’s one more, or one less thing to worry about. Steve on a mission can be damn stubborn.”

Tony glanced at Bucky sideways. “What would he do if Fury _did_ send him, do you think?”

“Steve came to talk,” Bucky said. “I think, if I’d-- well, it wasn’t like I didn’t think about it. But if I wanted a way out. Sam always said there’s guys you can’t save, you just stop them. If I needed to be stopped, Steve would end it. Quick. Painless. He’s a good friend. I know… it doesn’t look like that. But he was offering me the chance.”

Tony harrumphed. “You’re not a monster.”

“Agency works on KTF protocols. And I do look like a monster, Tony.”

“KTF?”

“Kill Them First,” Bucky said. “It’s not a very nice philosophy, is it?”

“And these guys are still after you?” Tony shuddered to think of it. They hadn’t exactly been hiding.

“Tony,” Bucky said, very seriously, “I’m a _werewolf._ There are always going to be people after me. Steve’ll talk to Fury; he’s got a lot of bankable credit with Fury -- if anyone can talk Fury out of hunting me down, it’ll be Steve. Give Fury a reason for wait-and-see. Honestly, get me in the papers a few more times as some sort of Manfred the Wonder Dog, and Fury won’t dare. Bad press.”

Tony huffed. “Well, getting you in the papers, I can do.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Seriously?” Bucky tugged at his tie. “A press conference? My training for being asked questions by the press is to flip ‘em off and say no comment, or direct ‘em to my superiors.”

“And if that asshat from the Bugle asks about the size of my dick, feel free to do just that,” Tony said. “Look, there’s already speculation about you on the gossip sites, we need to control the spin. Just stand there and look pretty.”

“Gotta get someone else, if you want someone to just stand around and be cute,” Bucky said. “They ask me anything dumb, I’m gonna tell ‘em it’s dumb, no matter how many shoes Pepper threatens to throw at me.”

Tony grinned. “And that is one of the many things I like about you.” He batted Bucky’s hands away from his tie, then leaned in to kiss him. “Deep breath. Ready?”

There were a lot more people in the room than Bucky was comfortable with. Dozens of damn reporters and photographers and people with microphones, and that wasn’t even considering the sheer number of people who were going to be watching on their televisions.

“No. I think I might throw up.”

They’d had to wait until the next new moon to do it, too. The first time Pepper said “press conference,” Bucky had wolfed out. Not something they wanted on film. Bad enough they had to make this shit public, but there were certain things about Bucky’s past he didn’t really want made public, of which lycanthropy was only one.

At least going public meant that Stark Industries had worked with the CIA to get Bucky reclassified as Not Dead, all nice and legal. Which was good, because when Pepper had tried to make him a legal, but misleading ID, that hadn’t worked out so well.

“Try not to do that,” Tony advised. “It makes for seriously bad press.” He almost ruffled Bucky’s hair, but stopped short of messing up the carefully-styled creation and settled for gripping Bucky’s arm bracingly instead. “They’ll give up as soon as they figure out there’s nothing scandalous to dig up on you,” he promised.

“There are so many bad things to dig up on me, boss,” Bucky muttered. But none of those details were likely to inspire these sorts of journalists. All this bunch wanted to know was if he’d had an affair with Taylor Swift or was into kinky bedroom games.

He tightened his fingers around Tony’s hand. Almost a month in, Tony had gotten him a bluetooth leash. Signals from the control device went directly to a collar -- or when Bucky was human, a bracelet -- and most dogs could be trained to them. It meant they didn’t need to hold hands all the time, but Bucky liked holding Tony’s hand anyway.

“Let’s do this, before I get the worst case of stage fright since the fifth grade holiday play,” Bucky said. “I was the second lobster. It was terrible.”

Tony laughed. “At least your costume looks better this time!” Tony winked at Bucky, squeezed his hand, and -- before Bucky could change his mind -- pulled him out onto the little stage.

Camera flashes went off instantly, amid a clamor of voices all demanding attention. Tony posed for a few shots, then stepped up to the podium with his practiced smile. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he joked, and a murmur of amusement swept the room, bringing it to a hush. “I thought it was finally time to lay to rest some of the rumors that have been running rampant for the last few weeks,” he continued. He gestured to Bucky. “This man has been seen in my company rather frequently lately, and apparently the public is just dying to know more about him. So here we are for his official introduction, because I’d be much happier if the public went back to talking about _me_.”

Another ripple of laughter. “I’m delighted to introduce you all to my partner, Mr. James Barnes.” Tony gestured again, then moved to the side so Bucky could step forward.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, biting as his lip nervously. “Hi, I’m like super, super nervous about this kinda thing, so be gentle. You’re my first.” He glanced around, taking in all the faces that were staring up at him with all the softness of a shark.

“Mr. Barnes, Mr. Barnes--” one reporter was practically jumping up and down.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said, “but really, I promise, I’m not that interesting.”

“How did you and Mr. Stark meet?”

“It was an accident, really,” Bucky said. “His dog jumped on me, and I was terrified, I mean, have you seen that dog? Anyway, Tony took me out to breakfast as an apology and we just kind hit it off.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m between contracts at the moment,” Bucky admitted. “I did strategic planning for James Patterson’s ghost writer last year, though. I’m not supposed to tell you that, NDA and all. Shhh.”

This one didn’t seem nearly so buoyant; her smile was more like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “Is it true that you used to be a frequent patron of the Sunshower bar and go home with a new man every week?”

Bucky felt his expression twitch into what Sam called his _active bitch face_. Really? Someone was going there? He glanced at Tony -- at least he’d told Tony before someone dragged his dirty laundry out to show it in the street. ”Yeah, well, you know how it is,” he said. “Think of it… like auditions. Give guys a try, keep the one with the best ass. And I mean, have you seen Tony Stark’s ass? That thing is insured for ten million.”

_It means something, Tony. Please, still believe that._

Next to him, Tony obligingly turned sideways and looked back over his own shoulder at his ass. “What can I say?” he quipped. “The man has taste.”

The crowd of reporters made a variety of wolf-whistles, appreciative noises, and a few shouts of disgust or cries of “get a room”s.

“Yeah, I’m trying,” Bucky said, openly admiring Tony’s physique. “But you all keep asking me questions.”

The reporters chuckled and Tony looked up at Bucky with a wide, bright smile and a wink.

***

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice came across the phone line, sounding a bit frantic, “they’ve arrested a woman downstairs in the lobby.”

Tony sighed. It happened from time to time -- some over-eager fan would try to push or bully their way in to see him. Usually, security dealt with it without having to involve the police, but once in a while, they were stubborn. “What’s this one’s story?”

Bucky looked over from his place on the sofa where he was making short work of Tony’s sandwich. He whined once, went back to the sandwich without apparent remorse for Tony’s lunch, even if he’d already finished his own.

“She’s claiming you’re holding her brother in some sort of illegal contract and she wants to see him, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said. “Says her name is Rebecca Proctor, maiden name, Barnes. You might want to come talk to her.”

Tony was suddenly glad he wasn’t eating his lunch anymore, or he might have choked on it. “Bucky’s _sister_ is here?” He looked over at Bucky, eyes stretching wide.

Bucky buried his nose under his paws and gave Tony great big puppy eyes. Some help he was.

Tony glared at him and told Pepper, “Have her released and send someone to bring her to, oh, one of the smaller meeting rooms. We’ll see if she’s who she says she is.”

Bucky whined and flapped his ears a few times. He sighed and slid off the sofa, pushing up under Tony’s hand. They’d made some progress toward communication, a solid light projector built into a wristband that looked like a watch or a Fitbit, and Tony’s ever expanding decision tree. But it was slow, and not something they could use in public without raising too many questions. Bucky nudged again at Tony’s hand, bringing up the program.

_Oops._

_Sorry._

Those were two of Bucky’s top used phrases, although they generally tended to refer to Bucky knocking something over, or eating something he shouldn’t. (Wolves, even werewolves, shouldn’t eat chocolate, they had discovered.)

“Not your fault, honey,” Tony soothed. “I mean, we probably should have anticipated that she might see the press at some point, but that’s on me as much as you. More. I’m used to it.” He sighed. “Are you even up to changing back right now, or should I invent a story for her?”

Bucky pawed at the light, shuffling through options.

_Threat. No change._

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell her you’re traveling or something and tell her you’ll call her tomorrow. Okay?”

_Scary._

Bucky whined.

_Okay._

Tony scratched Bucky’s ears affectionately. “Come on, let’s go at least make sure it’s really her.” He led the way down to the meeting rooms, amused at the way Bucky pressed against his leg the whole time.

If there was any doubt in his mind that this woman was related to Bucky, it disappeared the instant he walked into the room and she turned to face him. She looked so much like Bucky that she could well have been Bucky in drag. ...Well, if he’d lost a few inches in the process. But still, there was no mistaking that chin or the color of those eyes.

“Mrs. Proctor,” Tony greeted her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where is he?” She had a handful of papers, pictures and documents and newspaper clippings. “Where has he been? Where is he?”

Bucky whined again, and then trotted over to Rebecca and sniffed at her.

**Bark!**

_Yes._

Tony held up his hands. “Right this minute, I can’t say. It’s not like I keep your brother on a leash. He’s out. I can have him call you, maybe tomorrow?”

Bucky shot Tony a sarcastic, not particularly dog-like glower.

“It is him, though? I mean, look at him,” Rebecca said. “If that’s not Jamie, you ripped his face off and stapled it on someone else’s skull.”

She slapped a photo down on the table. Bucky -- maybe ten years ago, he looked barely an adult -- wearing military dress, the familiar rakish devil-may-care grin on his lips. And next to that, one of the stills from the press conference.

“First of all, that is really unnecessarily gruesome,” Tony said. “To the best of my knowledge, yes, it really is your brother. I know it must be confusing, to have been told he died and then suddenly have that contradicted. It was confusing for me, and I didn’t even know him before.” He tried on his most charming smile.

“I have an urn on my damn mantlepiece that’s supposed to have _his ashes_ in it, and you’re telling me he’s been, what, living with you for three months and he _never called me_?” She glared at Tony. “And who the hell is sitting next to the picture of our parents? Some stranger? Or just a bag of toast crumbs?”

Bucky whined again, pushing his muzzle against his sister’s stomach.

“I can’t tell you who or what is in the urn,” Tony said. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. Or with his purported death. I’m very sorry for the grief you must have felt, but I’ve been working -- well, my law team has been working -- on getting that mistake corrected, I assure you.”

“What, oh, get off me, pushy thing,” Rebecca scolded. “Go lay down. Go.”

Bucky whined, but obediently moved to the far corner of the room and laid down, eyes moving between Tony and his sister with concern.

“You really dating him? Jaime? _Why_?”

Bucky huffed from his position on the floor.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tony returned. “I like him. He’s smart, he’s fun, he’s sexy as hell.”

Bucky lolled his tongue out in a wolfish grin.

“He’s broken,” Rebecca said. “He’s… trying to live up to impossible expectations, or maybe live them down. I don’t know. But there’s a hole in my brother, Mr. Stark, that he keeps trying to fill up. He doesn’t… let people in. Not anymore. He pushes them away. I’m glad you like him. He looks like he likes you.” She tapped the photo from the press conference, in which Bucky was looking at Tony with those soft eyes. “Tell him to call me, for fuck’s sake. And… take care of yourself.”

She gathered up her things, then stopped at the door. “Assuming I’m not being detained. Let me know when he’s back in town. We’d like to have you both over for dinner.”

“I’m sure he’d be delighted,” Tony said. “I’ll ask him to call you as soon as he can.” He watched as she swept out, waited until the door closed again, then eyed Bucky, still on the floor. “Well?”

Bucky tipped his head up. Over the last few months, Tony had learned a lot about wolves, including the fact that their howls could be heard up to ten miles away.

He’d never actually heard that before. Bucky’s occasional howls or barks were loud, but like, megaphone loud. Not doing actual damage to his eardrums loud.

Bucky cried out loud enough that Tony was pretty sure everyone in the damn building heard it. Fortunately, it was over quickly.

Tony crouched on the floor and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

***

The first night in the cabin had mostly been spent in the cabin’s tiny garage, watching Tony pull the snowmobile to pieces and then put it back together, theoretically in the name of horsepower and efficiency, but Bucky thought it was mostly just because Tony had never owned a snowmobile before and he couldn’t resist pulling it apart to see how it worked.

Bucky laid out of the way and watched his human putter, smelling of grease and motor oil and warm metal and contentment. It was snowing too hard to do anything much anyway, although Bucky had insisted on running a few lone patrols about two miles out from the cabin -- they were in upstate New York where there were no fucking leash laws -- and he was discovering that snow and woods and meadows were a wolf’s natural habitat.

And if he had dug a few fat rabbits out of their warrens and made a meal of them, Tony didn’t need to know.

Tony had gotten the two-seater model, so even if Bucky randomly changed back to human, they could still have fun without having to explain anything.

Bucky had been practicing, trying to find a way of changing without a fear impetus, or being asleep -- he still couldn’t figure out how that worked. It was so painful the rest of the time, he couldn’t imagine how he could sleep through it, except that he obviously did. But so far, it was still exhausting and painful.

He looked up to see what Tony was doing -- rebuilding some engine part or other. Was it time to eat yet? Bucky sniffed, shook out his coat, and rolled over, showing off his belly and waving his paws in the air like a puppy.

Tony looked up at him and laughed. “Getting bored, are you? I’m almost done with this, I think.”

Bucky padded over carefully, not wanting to step on delicate engine parts, and nudged at Tony’s HOWLER (Helpful Organized Wolf Language interpretER. He needed to work on that name, really, it was awful.)

_Like watching you._

_Work is happy Tony._

_Little hungry._

Humans, Bucky decided, talked entirely too much; things that didn’t need to be said and they said them anyway, just to fill up the space.

He huffed a sigh. The more time he spent as a wolf, the less he thought of himself as being entirely human, a man stuck in a wolf’s body. Sometimes he found himself thinking more wolfy thoughts when he was human. It was both comforting and a little scary, the way he was coming to accept, more and more, that he was not one or the other, but both.

Would he miss it, if the curse was broken? He was seven moons in, about halfway through the year…

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said. “Give me... ten more minutes, and then we’ll go find you something to eat. Good?”

_Wolf always hungry._

_I wait._

Bucky wagged his tail, thumping Tony a few times and went to sit by the door. He wasn’t really that hungry, but Tony should probably eat, rest, go to the bathroom, all the human things that he forgot to do when he got into hardware mode. Also, the garage was cold, and kneeling on a concrete floor, even if he did have blankets down, probably wasn’t doing Tony’s knees any good at all. But Tony would never take his own comfort and well being into consideration.

Bucky yawned widely and watched as Tony talked to the machine parts like they were children, coaxing them into place, into better performance.

If Tony worked for longer than the promised ten minutes, it wasn’t by enough to trouble Bucky, who didn’t really parse human units of time very well when he was a wolf anyway. Soon enough, though, Tony was wiping his hands on a rag and pushing up to his feet. “I think that’s done,” he announced. “So. You want to go inside and eat, or go out for a run first?”

_Food first._

_Keep warm._

_Run hard work._

Tony nodded and led the way, opening the door into the cabin and stepping aside to let Bucky push past him. He went straight to the kitchen and washed his hands, then started pulling food out of the little refrigerator.

After several phone calls, a few lunch meetings, Tony coming over for dinner and letting Becca cook for him -- meeting his brother-in-law for only the second time since Becca’s wedding -- and one afternoon in the park with Bucky in his wolf, playing with his four-year-old nephew while Becca not-so-subtly probed Tony for gossip, Becca had mostly forgiven him.

Which meant she’d knit him a scarf. It was a terrible knitting job, red and silver stripes, and it was coming unravelled after only a few weeks of use. But that might have been that Bucky carried it around with him as a wolf, too, draping it around his neck and sometimes chewing on the dangling ends without thinking about it.

He went to get it, and then came back to see what food Tony had managed to scrounge. Wrong word, really. Everything at the little cabin had been stocked for them by Pepper, with both Tony and Bucky adding on useful or helpful suggestions. At least it wasn’t all kale. Pepper had some strange ideas about healthy eating.

Tony had made himself a sandwich and was tossing things into a blender for a smoothie (fruit, spinach, carrots, more fruit, apparently indiscriminately). There was a small pile of meat for Bucky on top of the mostly tasteless high-protein dog kibble that was available all the time.

“I’m thinking after lunch we can go out for a bit. Put the snowmobile through its paces, let you stretch your legs a little,” Tony said. He punched a button on the blender and it growled into life while Tony reached for a glass. He turned the blender off and poured the contents into the glass. “And then we can come back and light the fire, relax until it’s time for dinner. Yeah?”

Bucky growled back at the blender, or maybe at the dog kibble, he wasn’t sure. As much as he didn’t really like the stuff, he had to admit, it was a lot better for his digestion than when he pushed his wolf-stomach beyond its limits and stuffed it with things like pizza.

Stupid wolf-stomach, he thought, nosing the bits of deli meat around so he could get one mouthful of that with the kibble.

After he was licking the bottom of the bowl, getting up the last scraps, he looked up, realized Tony had asked him a question probably a while ago, based on the way Tony’s eyebrow was raised up, and hastily backtracked through his head for the last-- oh! Right.

**Bark!**

_Yeah, sure._

Bucky wagged his tail rapidly back and forth. A good run. There were nights when he still dreamed of chasing things (Tony) but sometimes he dreamed of them running together, Tony at his side where he belonged. Those dreams, Tony had told him, he twitched all over in his sleep, paws moving like he was actually running.

Bucky just laughed and brushed it off when Tony asked what the dreams were. It sounded cheesy as hell.

Lunch finished, Tony bundled up again and pushed the snowmobile out of the little garage. “You’ve explored already, you lead the way,” he said, and fired it up.

He had to keep in mind the limitations of the machine, Bucky reminded himself. Logs or rocks under the snow could damage the vehicle, or flip it over. He picked a direction that was relatively even footing, a rolling meadow with some dips and hills that would make the ride exciting, let him test out his top speed, and not put his human at too much risk. He wagged his tail, barked once, and took off.

Let Tony catch him on that buzzing, burring thing between his thighs.

Bucky ran, ran to chase the wind, to feel the cold and ice against his coat, to stretch his muscles and prove his superiority over the other creatures in the area.

He was king of the forest, running. It was what he was made for, why he was built and it felt _magnificent_.

Tony came behind, sprays of snow shooting up behind him. He was laughing and whooping, cutting tight turns just to test the machine’s limits, playfully trying to catch Bucky with a wave of snow.

Bucky got a good running start and leaped directly over Tony, snowmobile and all, clearing at least a good ten, twelve feet. Ha, eat that. They chased each other around the meadow until almost all the pristine snow was torn up, until the sun was sinking on the horizon. Bucky skidded to a halt, skin steaming and making little warm pockets between his undercoat and outer coat of fur, melting the snow stuck in long hairs.

He raised his muzzle and howled, just for the joy of it, listening to the sonorous ringing around the forest, across the meadows and frozen streams and into the mountains.

An almost startled silence, after he stopped. Even Tony had turned off the motor of his little machine to listen.

And then there was a chorus of greetings in the air. Like a dozen voices yelling… _Hi, hello! New wolf! Oh my god!_

Excited, like a flock of teenagers who’d just made a new friend on social media. He’d never been able to understand dogs; their barks and movements and whines were as much animal sounds as they’d ever been, but this--

Bucky yipped, shocked, and buried his muzzle in the snow.

Tony tensed, hands on the snowmobile’s controls, eyes uselessly searching the trees that lined the meadow. “Do we need to get out of here?”

**Bark bark.**

_No._

He turned his back on Tony, on the machine, so he couldn’t see any of the trappings of men, even if he could still smell them. He lifted his muzzle, listening to the songs as they circled around the mountains again.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he would be able to speak to wolves, that they had a language. He listened, listened with more than his ears, listened with his heart and his nose and his whole body.

_Hi new wolf_. That was the alpha, and there was a tang of the packname on the end of the howl, like a signature. Bucky couldn’t have translated the word, not really, but _Water Leaper’s pack_ might have been close. It would do, when he had to tell Tony about it, and how could he _not_ tell Tony about this? It was the most fascinating thing he’d ever done.

_Just passing through_ , he howled, adding on his own signature. _Two Legs pack._ Close enough. His pack were all human, except for him. _Should I go?_ That was mournful, almost painful. To think he wouldn’t be allowed, somehow.

_Stay a while._ There were tones under that, inviting him to go hunt with the pack. He whined, wanting to, but a quick look over his shoulder at Tony made him think he probably shouldn't.

Bucky howled one last time, declining the invitation, with hints of _for now_ , and _maybe later_ , and _good hunting all_ attached. It was a rich language, saying a lot in only a few sounds. Astonishing, amazing. He was…

He was still a man, and it didn’t seem to him that explaining that to a pack of wolves was going to be any easier than explaining that he was a wolf to a group of humans. He trotted back to Tony’s side.

Tony reached out a gloved hand to pet Bucky’s neck. “Making friends?”

There was really no way to shrug in his wolf form, so Bucky settled for pushing extra hard at Tony’s hand. He heaved a sigh, and started back toward the cabin. The snowmobile could follow along, easily enough, at Bucky’s trotting speed.

He wondered if the wolves’ presence would keep him from being comfortable enough to switch back. A little privacy and a fireside romp had sounded good when Tony was planning the long weekend, but now…

Bucky wasn’t sure about a lot of things.


	18. Chapter 18

Gwen, their normal barista, already had Tony’s cup ready to go by the time they made it to the front of the line. Admittedly, Tony’s order rarely changed, and Bucky was noticeable in the line. It gave Gwen an excuse to come out and hug on the dog, because she’d saved a few minutes prepping his drink between other customers.

She barely took a second to hand Tony his cup before she was squatting down to rub Bucky's belly as he rolled around in the dirt. Because of course he was. Wolf Bucky really did not care about the state of Tony’s carpeting. “Such a good boy,” Gwen cooed.

Tony took a gulp of his coffee. “He’s just a sucker for attention,” he said, winking when Bucky gave him a dry look over Gwen’s shoulder. “Come on, furball, there’s other people in line.”

The end of February always varied wildly between too cold and snowy, or not quite cold enough and raining, but the day was nice. Chilly, but not wet, with just that first hint in the air that it might be thinking about spring. Bucky gleefully shook dirt all over the place before tagging along after Tony on their usual walk.

A few posters advertised an Early Bird race, which for some reason pictured a bunch of earthworms riding bicycles, and warnings that some paths might be closed.

Which, as Tony went to turn them down the long loop, appeared to be the case. The detour signs put them on a wide, paved path toward more civilized -- and often less dog friendly -- parts of the park, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I guess we’re taking an alternate route today.” Tony grimaced; the more open parts of the park made it easier for them to be ambushed by paparazzi, which Tony was more or less used to but still made Bucky nervous in both his human and wolf forms. Still, Bucky got restless and even irritable if he didn’t get a little exercise in the morning, so Tony followed the signs.

For a refreshing bit of walk, Tony didn’t see any other people. He could hear them, here and there, cheers and calls and the faint _wah wah_ of someone’s substandard microphone system. And then--

Then there were too many people. A lot too many, all of them riding bicycles and wearing helmets and windbreakers, bearing down on them.

“What the fuck--” The signs were supposed to direct them _away_ from the race!

“Get out of the way, asshole!” yelled one cyclist, swerving.

Bucky yanked Tony’s jacket and dragged him off the main road.

“What the _hell_ ,” Tony muttered, trying to get himself turned around and figure out where they were. That would make for a great headline: Tony Stark dead at 47, victim of multiple cyclist hit-and-runs. He looked around some more and spotted a mostly-overgrown path of wheel ruts, probably used by the groundskeepers. Well, it was as good a path to follow as any -- it would either lead them to an open area where he could figure out where they were, or back to the street.

The end of that path was surrounded by a thick grove of trees, a small parking lot with mixed gravel and weeds, a bank of port-a-potties, and a white van that looked like the sort of thing that might contain a scruffy guy, candy, and a suburban warning story.

There were two more paths leading out from the lot, one of them paved, the other one looking like the _here there be vampires_ fork in all those cartoons Tony used to watch.

“Yeah, we’re going for the paved path,” Tony muttered. “Come on, Buckyball.”

The door on the side of the van slid back and Bucky stopped short, legs splayed, as he snarled, then started barking frantically. He growled, barked again.

The men who piled out of the side of the van were not “hey, little boy, want a candy bar?” types, but they weren’t better news at all. They wore identical black jumpsuits and domino masks and knit caps. There were guns, lots of them, and Bucky leaped--

One man rolled down a window, pointed something at Bucky that looked like a gun with a handmade silencer on it, there was a loud pffft sound.

Bucky yipped, fell over and rolled several times.

He didn’t get up.

“Bucky!”

“Come with us, Mr. Stark,” another man said, gun aimed at Tony’s leg. “I really don’t want to have to shoot you.”

“You son of a bitch, what did you do to Bucky?”

“I’m not warning you again, Mr. Stark,” the man growled. He hefted the gun meaningfully.

The others surrounded him. Tony didn’t really have a choice. They pushed and prodded him away from Bucky, into the van. No windows in the back, of course, and they made him sit facing away from the front. The guy with the gun kept it pointed at Tony, and stayed well out of reach. “Now you just sit there and behave yourself,” he said. “Or else.”

“Only cowards would shoot a dog,” Tony snarled.

“Call it in,” one of them said. “Nothin’ personal.” He prodded the middle of Tony’s back with a muzzle. “Don’t care if I have to shoot you, too.”

Tony could hear someone, the driver, maybe? Talking over the phone, On speaker, because he could hear the crackle and noise at the other end. “We got him, sir. Easy as pie.”

“Good. I’m transferring the funds as agreed,” the person on the other end said. There was too much static. Tony had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew that voice, but he couldn’t quite place it.

God, Bucky would be so frantic. If he even woke up. Bucky, _fuck_ , Bucky-- Tony swallowed. As long as Bucky wasn’t already dead, he’d be okay. They probably hadn’t known to shoot him with silver, right? Tony suppressed his panic and fear. He’d deal with them both later. “Where the fuck are you taking me?”

The shooter ran the muzzle of his gun through Tony’s hair like a caress. “Your boyfriend’s back, and you’re gonna be in trouble,” he sang, a rough velvet voice. “He’s been wanting to see you for a while now.”

“Brock, stop teasing him. T wants him unharmed,” one of the others said.

“Jackie, you didn’t just call me by name, did you?”

“Both of you, sit down, shut up,” the driver snapped. “Twenty more minutes and we’ll be done with this job, don’t you dare fuck this up so late in the game.”

_T_. God damn it. They hadn’t heard anything from T in months. Tony had thought he’d given up. But apparently, he’d just moved on to more elaborate plans. Why did crazy stalkers always seem to have so many _resources_? It wasn’t fair. Tony ground his teeth and wondered if he could dive out of the back of the van when they slowed down for the next light before they shot him.

He thought he could make it. They hadn’t tied him up or anything, and Tony had been dealing with kidnappers since he _was_ a kid. He was just tensing himself to try for it, when there was a hard thud at the back of the vehicle, like someone had rear ended them.

Tony went sprawling; they hadn’t tied him up, but they hadn’t belted him in, either.

“The fuck?”

The driver slammed on the gas, jerking the vehicle forward. Swerved, and there was a scraping noise as the whole vehicle shuddered.

“Jesus Christ, it’s the damn dog, Rumlow, shoot it, shoot it!” the driver was screaming, and Tony got a glimpse of Bucky’s muzzle and teeth in the side view mirror.

_Objects in mirror are closer than they appear._ He almost giggled at the thought, giddy with relief that Bucky was alive. “Bucky! Be careful!”

The van swerved again, and Tony cursed as his side banged into the edge of a seat.

“Can’t do anything right, can you, Brock,” Jackie sneered. “Just shoot the damn dog, this’ll be easy money, you said.” He grabbed a bag from where it was sliding around and pulled out a fucking AR-15. “Keep an eye on Stark, I’ll take care of our damn pest problem.”

Jackie grabbed the interior handle for the back doors and yanked.

“Bucky! Look out!”

“Shut up,” Brock growled.

“Fuck you!”

“Not now, sweetheart, I’m busy,” Brock said, putting his gun to Tony’s forehead and flicking off the safety with his thumb. “But maybe later, if you ask nice.”

The back doors flew open and Jackie started unloading randomly. That kind of gun, with its terrible recoil, from the back of a moving vehicle? He’d be lucky if he hit anything he was aiming for. The neighborhood outside, not so much. For an instant, Tony saw black fur and a swiftly moving body, and then Bucky leaped. “Where the fuck--”

THUMP! A heavy weight dropped onto the roof, bowing the ceiling in.

Jackie whirled, pointed the gun upward--

“Don’t you fucking do it, ricochet is a thing, asshole,” Brock yelled, kicking his co-kidnapper in the stomach, practically knocking him out of the van entirely.

That took Brock’s gun off Tony’s head for a moment, so he shouted, “It’s _T!_ ” Bucky would know what that meant.

The van swerved frantically, people screaming as they scattered. There was another THUMP and Bucky rolled down onto the hood, and then off the front of the van. The driver slammed on the accelerator and--

Two hundred plus pounds of mostly fur and muscle and bone came through the windshield, snarling and snapping. Safety glass sprayed everywhere, and the driver was screaming.

“This has gone to shit,” Jackie said, and he bailed out the backside of the van, running without looking back.

“Bucky!” Tony yelled, kicking at Brock.

‘You and that fucking mutt,” Brock muttered, whirling to point his gun at Bucky. He was practically on top of Bucky, he couldn't miss.

Bucky whipped his head to one side and bit down--

Brock was screaming then, and there was blood everywhere and the van drifted ponderously off one side of the road and directly into the side of an overpriced coffee shop. The impact bounced Tony around a few times and Bucky tumbled over with a sharp yip.

The van was still running, wheels churning uselessly, engine screaming.

There were shouts and screams from outside the van but they seemed very far away.

Tony crawled over the seats and threw his arms around Bucky. “Oh god, Bucky, I thought you were--” He choked it back, forced himself to think again. He snatched up the gun from where Brock had dropped it and aimed it at the floor, finger held close by the trigger. “Okay, let him go now,” he told Bucky. “I’ve got him.”

Bucky opened his jaws. Several nasty, raw puncture marks dotted Brock’s arm as he yanked it back, blood flowing. Pained grunts came from Brock’s throat as he pulled his injured arm close to his body.

The driver was out cold, peppered with tiny cuts and a steering wheel imprint on his forehead.

Bucky tucked his chin over Tony’s shoulder as people started clustering around, “Are you okay, is anyone injured, medics are on the-- holy shit, is that a wolf?!”

_Fuck_. Damage control time. Tony didn’t look away from Brock but he said, “I know he looks like one. Can someone call the police? These gentlemen were trying to kidnap me.”

Bucky staggered to one side, and when Tony patted him down, he found an ampule of something jammed into Bucky’s side, still partly filled with a blueish liquid.

“Damn it, what did they shoot you with, baby?” Tony looked into Bucky’s eyes, and they definitely weren’t tracking normally. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” There was something hilarious, though, about the idea that even these hardened asshats drew the line at straight-up shooting a dog. Tony giggled a little.

“Mr. Stark,” someone said, stepping into the back of the van. Tony looked up to see a woman. Despite her civilian attire, she had the attitude and carriage of a plain-clothes police officer. “I’m Detective Misty Knight. Could you please put the gun down so I can safely arrest these two?”

“Safely arrest” was funny, too, for some reason. Tony coughed out a laugh. “Sorry, Detective,” he said. “Think I’m going into shock. But I’ll have to see your badge, please.” They’d gotten him that way once, pretending to be cops, when he was in college.

“I’m going to reach down for my badge now, Mr. Stark,” she said. She kept her hand well away from her gun and pulled out a leather square holding her badge and ID. “Misty Knight, with Harlem PD. Don’t shoot me. That’ll piss me off and you do not want that. Is your dog under control? Here’s my badge.”

Bucky whined and flopped over to the floor, his muzzle red with Brock’s blood. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Knight’s badge looked like the real deal. Tony flicked the safety on the gun and set it on the floor of the van. His hand was starting to shake. Fuck, he hated the shaking. He let himself fall to his knees, and pushed his hands into Bucky’s fur. “Bucky’s a good dog,” he told the detective. Another little giggle slipped out. “He was just protecting me. He won’t hurt you.”

“All right,” she said. Brock was protesting claims of Bucky being perfectly safe, that the dog almost bit his damn hand off. “You can tell me about it down at the precinct,” Misty told him, cuffing him anyway, nasty bite wound completely ignored.”You, too, Mr. Stark, I’ll need a statement--”

She really didn’t, Tony knew. His huge cadre of lawyers had thudded that into his head: do not talk to detectives, or cops, no matter how reasonable they seemed.

“Later,” Tony said. “After I get Bucky taken care of.” He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, then stared at it, not quite able to figure out who he should call first.

Pepper. Always call Pepper first. That was probably a good idea. He called Pepper. “T tried to kidnap me,” he said as soon as she answered. “They shot Bucky.”

“Tell me where you are,” Pepper said, almost entirely unfazed. “Do you need a doctor? I’ll call Strange and send Happy to pick you up. What else can I do for you, right now?” There were little clicks coming from her end, like she was already sending emails and alerts.

Tony peered out the van. “Harlem, apparently. Follow the trail of destruction. Have one of the law team ride along with Happy; th’ detective wants a statement. I’m...” The ambulance pulled up, and for a few seconds, Tony was mesmerized by the flashing lights. “I’m gonna go let the EMTs put a blanket on me now,” he said, because the shaking was really starting to get out of control.

“All right, Tony. Happy’s on his way now, you just sit tight a minute, we’ll get everything taken care of.” Because that was what Pepper did, she took care of everything.


	19. Chapter 19

Despite being a fancy, upscale tech school -- one of the best in the country, the brochure had bragged -- MidTown Tech smelled like every other high school Bucky had ever been to. More so, now that he had a much better nose.

Orange peel and pencil shavings and chalk, even though the school didn’t have all that many chalkboards. Most of those were gone, replaced with whiteboards and computer monitors. Tony was ushered from the entrance to the cafeteria by the principal, Mr. Morita. At the school board’s request, Tony and a number of other prominent engineers and scientists who lived in New York City were judging the annual science fair.

Tony had muttered something about being emotionally blackmailed by a high school sophomore, and agreed to the request. Bucky would have preferred not to be in such a crowded and easily-accessible venue, but T hadn’t tried anything since the kidnapping. One of the kidnappers, Rumlow, had been stabbed and died in a prison fight, the driver was still being held on a bail bond he couldn’t possibly meet. No one, however, knew what had happened to Jackie, so there was at least one person out there who still wished Tony harm.

Thus Bucky was tagging along in guard mode.

The cafeteria, the gym, and the little theater were filled to the brim with students and their three-fold display boards, their experiments, and their parents. Bucky kept close to Tony’s heel and tried to look smaller and less dangerous than ever. To keep parents from freaking out (kids, Bucky discovered, generally did not find him scary at all) Bucky was actually wearing a damn harness with a handle on it, leather straps that crossed his rib cage like some sort of bondage gear.

Which is what Bucky had called it the first time he’d seen the rig. Tony had spent the next ten minutes cackling like a loon.

“So engineering and chemistry experiments are in here,” Morita was saying. “Computer sims in the theater, and biology and psychology in the gym. Here’s your clipboard and your summaries; each student is marked by a number in the corner of their display, that should correspond to your white paper. There’s a scorecard on the back, and a place for your remarks.”

Tony was mostly ignoring Morita, already flipping through the summaries, scanning them quickly. “Right,” he said. “Let’s start with the squishy sciences and get that out of the way.” He checked the map of the school he’d been given, and pointed. “That way.”

Tony’s manner, which was often curt and unpleasant and sarcastic with adults, was entirely different when he was talking to kids, especially bright kids, like these. He asked good questions, listened intently, and managed to say “What makes you think so?” in a non-hostile manner. He was scathing with the few helicopter parents who hovered around and tried to talk over their kids, interrupting the presentations. Suck-ups were shut down with equal ruthlessness, but when Tony came across a shy girl whose experiments were on the reversal of Alzheimer's in mice, Tony spent extra time drawing her out of her shell, talking with her about her grandmother, who suffered from early onset dementia and often confused her with her dead mother.

Bucky whined and scootched under the girl’s hand so she could pet him while she talked, and that seemed to make her braver. Her cage full of partially recovered rodents did their mousy things, running and eating and drinking and grooming.

Tony praised her experiment lavishly and let her pet Bucky a little more before moving on to the next. He seemed to be having a good time, actually, his smile much closer to his real, happy smile than the sharp press smile. The kids were enthralled with Bucky, begging to pet him, and every time Bucky glanced up at Tony, Tony was beaming back at him.

He thumped his tail against Tony’s legs, pretty happy and content, himself. _God, I love you,_ Bucky thought. He hadn’t said as much to Tony yet, waiting for some mythical right moment, probably sometime after he dealt with his stupid curse and had something more to offer Tony than guard dog service.

This was nice, though. Happy Tony smelled nice, the kids were sweet, and--

Something twisted in his lower belly, not… painful, exactly, but like a tingle of static in his tail. He wagged it cautiously. The movement seemed somehow unnatural, like he had to involve a lot more of his butt than usual.

What the hell?

He glanced at his reflection in the fishbowl glass. The tail-wagging effort didn’t look _bad_ , just like he was really excited, his entire hind quarters shifting with each swing.

Tony looked down and grinned fondly. “Looks like Bucky’s enjoying your project, too,” he told the kid. He ruffled Bucky’s fur and went back to asking about dichromism in fish, or whatever the project was about.

Bucky’s paws felt weird, like the time when Tony had taken him to the groomer’s and they’d trimmed his nails really damn close to the bed, almost painful, making walking around tender for a day or two until they grew back out. He minced a few steps, and his hips started to ache, like he was bent all wrong--

_Oh._

_Oh, fuck._

Bucky whined and pawed at Tony’s leg.

Tony glanced down, frowning slightly. “What is it?” He glanced around cautiously, then looked back at Bucky. “You... Are you feeling all right?”

Bucky opened his jaws to bark and the whole array _cracked_ , like milk over noisy cereal, his jaw starting to reshape. Bucky whined. Where the hell were they, the-- right, the gym. Basketball nets on either side, tucked up toward the ceiling, bleachers pushed against the wall, and… there!

There was no time to explain. He twisted, tugging the harness out of Tony’s hand and bolted for the boy’s locker room, paws scrabbling against the slick floor, sticking to the back of the room to avoid drawing attention. Knocking over someone’s display would probably result in him getting chased, and he didn’t know how much time he had left.

The locker room had a double switchback and no doors, thank Christ. Bucky darted all the way back to the showers.

More electric tingles in his spine, and his hips ached like he was a hundred goddamn years old.

“Bucky?” Tony had followed. Of course he had.

Bucky couldn't help the way he stretched and raised up on hind legs, trying to relieve the pain in his hips. His tail felt so fucking weird.

He whined and it turned into a series of pained whimpers.

The fur dragged inward and it was like being covered in ants. Crawling on him, biting, scratching. He slapped at his skin, realized he had hands to slap. Christ Christ _Christ_. It was awful. Everything _itched_.

He groaned, shuddering all over, and it sounded less like a wolf and more like a man. His nose popped like someone had broken it and the brilliant smells went dead at the same time his eyes gained depth perception and focus.

He fell against the tile wall, which was cold against his naked skin.

“Shit,” he said. “Tony, gimme your pants.”

“What the hell-- I can’t give you my pants, Bucky! I can’t go back out there in my boxers! Why did you change back _now_?” He ducked down a row of lockers. Metal clanged and rattled.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “I don't know,” he said. “But I am _naked_ in a _high school_ and I have had nightmares about this my entire life, so stop arguing with me and figure this out.”

More banging metal. “Aha! Okay, okay, I’ve got this.” Tony came around the corner into the showers holding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I knew there had to be at least one locker with clothes still in it.”

“That bitch is laughing at me, I swear,” Bucky muttered. He rolled his eyes. “He stole them, not me.” He reached for the pants, pushing away from the wall as Tony came closer.

“I will even leave money in the locker for whoever the kid is so I’ve just bought them,” Tony agreed, handing over the clothes. “Uh, we may want to take off the harness before you put the shirt on.”

Bucky made a face. Crap. He'd forgotten about it. God please don't let anyone come in, he prayed, turning around so Tony could get at the buckle in the middle of his damn back. He didn't even want to know what people would think and there were sure to be kids with camera phones.

There was probably a law about sex in front of minors or something.

Tony slipped the harness off and bundled it up in his hands. “Okay, so... I’ll go back out and get back to judging,” he suggested. “You slip out the side door. Then you can either wait for me in the car, or, I guess, you can come back around to the front and pretend that you’re just catching up with me late.”

Dressed and feeling less frantic, Bucky took the harness. “Don't you know you're not supposed to leave your pet alone in the car?” He laughed at Tony's expression. “I'll nap in the car. It's fine, boss.”

“Well, not really,” Tony sighed, “but at least no one caught you with your pants down and your bondage gear on.” He grinned and leaned up to give Bucky a kiss.

“Have fun,” Bucky told him, slipping one hand into Tony's pocket and snitching the car keys. He was exhausted, really. The Change hadn't been painful, just uncomfortable, but he could use a dozen cheeseburgers and a nap.

Nap first. Then he and Tony could hit a drive through while he had a stern talking to with his random crazy unlycanthropy tendencies.

***

They didn’t go to the actual dog park very often, despite it being one of the few outdoor places in the area where dogs weren’t required to be leashed. Mostly because the dogs there never quite seemed to know what to make of Bucky, either attacking him or giving him a wide, suspicious berth.

But Bucky had been restless all day despite their morning walk, and spring was in full, glorious blossom, so after dinner, Tony suggested they go to the dog park so Bucky could run off some of his excess energy. It was some kind of testament to just how restless and cooped up Bucky’s wolf had been feeling that he immediately agreed.

As soon as they’d crossed into the no-leashes boundary, Bucky took off, running as fast as his exceptionally long legs could take him, tongue lolling happily from the side of his muzzle.

“Wow, he’s a big one,” said a woman nearby. “You’re not afraid he’ll jump the fence and keep going?

“Nah,” Tony said. “He knows where he’s allowed to go.”

“Well-behaved, I like that,” she said. She held out a hand. “Hi, my name’s Lindsay.”

She apparently didn’t recognize him, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Not everyone followed celebrity scandals, after all. Tony shook her hand. “Tony.”

“Bet he weighs a ton,” she commented aimlessly. “My vet charges extra for the bigger breeds, even when they're still puppies. Getting my two boys neutered, whew.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t know about that,” Tony said. Obviously neutering was what a responsible pet owner did, but Tony didn’t even want to _joke_ about it to Bucky.

“Oooh, he's a full male, then? You've got your hands full then, I bet.” She watched Bucky run, then pointed out a much smaller grey and white husky. “That's my pride and joy there, though. Dottie.”

“She’s lovely,” Tony said, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that you always complimented other people’s dogs. _Always_.

“Half wolfdog,” Lindsay said, beaming, “and half husky. Full female. She's just over a year old.”

“Very nice,” Tony agreed. He had no idea how old Bucky was, in wolf/dog years. Hopefully Lindsay wouldn’t ask.

“Call him on over,” Lindsay suggested. “ Let's see if they like each other.” She whistled for her dog, who bounded over, bringing a wet, well-chewed tennis ball with her. “Dottie, sit.” Lindsay had a clicker in one hand which she employed until Dottie sat down with a _yow ow ow_ complaint. Very similar, Tony thought, to Bucky's whiny voice.

Tony debated brushing her off, then decided Bucky might be amused by the whole thing. “Bucky! Come meet someone!”

Bucky glanced back at Tony and ran even faster for a few minutes, obviously and pointedly ignoring him, but then huffed to a stop. He looked back over his shoulder again and then trotted over. He sat down near Tony's feet and offered a paw to Lindsay to shake.

“Oh!” She was practically cooing. “So smart, too. Hi there! It's nice to meet you, Bucky. This is Dottie, my good girl. Dottie, Bucky. We thought you two might like to get acquainted.”

Dottie offered her ball to Bucky who nosed at it curiously.

“How cute!”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tony really didn’t know where Lindsay got her enthusiasm, honestly.

“There's quite a market for half and quarter wolf puppies,” she said.

Tony actually froze. Surely, she was not suggesting what it sounded like she was suggesting.

Bucky looked up from where he was laying with a startled little woof. Dottie did not seem to notice, pushing the ball back toward Bucky.

“It would be Dottie's first litter so maybe three or four pups. You'd get first pick, of course.”

Tony opened his mouth, and for possibly the first time in his entire life, nothing came out. “Uh.” He closed his mouth, unable to tear his eyes away from Bucky, who was beginning to look alarmed. He regrouped. “Uh. We haven’t really been, you know, considering it.”

“He gets all the easy part,” she said. “I'll just call you when Dottie starts her heat. Just bring him over, I have access to a rooftop garden. We'll let them run around a bit. It usually goes along pretty quick. An hour, maybe. A male dog will mount up for at least twenty minutes. Enough time for coffee and a slice of cake. Then Dottie does all the work and you reap the rewards. Plus, Bucky here will be happy and chill for months afterward.”

“I... see.”

Bucky was not looking the least bit happy or chill at the moment.

Tony shook himself. “Well. I will, um, give that some consideration,” he said diplomatically, “and let you know if we decide to do that.”

Lindsay dug around in her bag and pulled out a breeder's card, her portrait in the corner. “Give me a call, we'll set something up.”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, and prayed it sounded less feeble than he suspected it did.

Bucky was steadfastly ignoring Dottie's attempt to engage him in more play. He stared at Tony like Tony had grown a second head.

“Well,” Tony said briskly. “You ready to head home, Bucky?”

Bucky was on his feet and headed toward the gate so fast, Tony was sort of surprised he didn't leave a little animated dust cloud behind.

Tony managed some polite farewells and followed after Bucky at a quick walk. “Well,” he muttered as he caught up, “that was extra awkward.”

Bucky didn't look at him, nose carefully pointed in the other direction, every hair on his body radiating offense.

“Oh, come on,” Tony pleaded. “You didn’t think I’d actually seriously entertain any such thing, do you? I swear, I had no idea when I called you over, I thought she was just being friendly.”

The button on the elevator that would take him up all 80-plus floors without stopping was one of the privileges of living in the penthouse of his own building that Tony didn’t actually use all at often. Before Bucky came into his life, there had been days, weeks even, that Tony might have gone without actually seeing another living person if he’d used the express, so Pepper had suggested he stop.

Even a few minutes of idle chatter with techs or secretaries or whatever had done Tony some good, cleared his head. But as soon as they boarded, Bucky nosed the button, whining for Tony to activate it via thumbprint. He shifted back into his human form and stumbled, naked, toward the penthouse door.

“Seriously, boss,” Bucky said, “that was… ug. Don’t even fuckin’... Keep me away from her.”

“Yeah, you got it,” Tony agreed. “Really, I had no idea what she was going to say.”

“Not the woman,” Bucky exclaimed, pacing back and forth, completely heedless of his nudity. Which was a little distracting. Tony wondered if he should point it out and decided not to. “The _girl_. Dog. Part wolf, whatever she is. _Dottie_.” The wild, freaked-out expression of Bucky’s face might have been comical, if his eyes weren’t so haunted. “I can hear her.”

That pulled Tony up short. “Hey. Hey, honey, it’s okay, what’s... What’s got you so upset?” He caught Bucky’s arm on the next lap of the room. “Come on, talk to me here.”

“Okay, normally, I don’t… speak dog. I didn’t really think about it at first, because they’re _dogs_. But then with the wolves, up in the Adirondacks? They made sense to me, I understood them. I don’t think I could translate it, really, but I knew what they meant. We _communicated_.”

Bucky threw himself down on the sofa with unnecessary force, running one hand through his hair. “But dogs? Nope.”

“Yeah, you told me about those wolves,” Tony said carefully. “What’s-her-face said Dottie was part wolf, actually. I didn’t think it would matter, because she’s been raised as, you know, a _dog_. But you could understand her?”

“A little,” Bucky said. “Like talkin’ to someone that English is their third language or something. Which, yeah, that was a little cool. But then, what that lady was sayin’? I ain’t… most people in th’ city _fix_ their pets. I got… I mean, I got instincts as a wolf that I don’t… like the pigeons. I can’t seem t’ not jump at ‘em. An’... she’s a _kid,_ Tony, she’s like… twelve, I dunno? It doesn’t translate well. What happens if I-- there’s so much about this that I don’t know.”

“You’re telling me that in half a year, you haven’t encountered _one_ dog in heat? Or even smelled it on someone?”

“Yeah, well, sometimes? Lots of cats. People don’t fix their damn cats. An’ a few dogs, sometimes, but… dogs, Tony, not _wolves_. And don’t even talk to me about _women_. Human women, I mean. Came on one lady one time, she was on some fertilization treatments, I could smell her a block away. Jesus.”

Tony sat next to Bucky on the sofa and pulled him close. “Yeah, I’m getting it,” Tony said. “We’ll avoid the dog park for a while, okay? It’s not that big a deal. You’ve only got a couple of months left, anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “I dunno, I jus’ got to thinking… what would happen, if… I mean, what kinda monster human wolf hybrid… could I even… what the hell did that witch do to me? There’s… it just freaked me out, I didn’t… think you’d try an’ stud me out or nothin’.”

Tony snorted. “Well, that’s good. Because you’re mine, and I’m not sharing.”

Bucky gave him a rather heated once over. “Funny,” he said. “I thought you were _mine_.”

Tony returned the look, with full appreciation for Bucky’s nakedness. “Dual ownership,” he suggested. “Joint property.”

Usually they adjourned to the bedroom, although Bucky had held Tony up against the wall once or twice, and there was one notable evening where the kitchen counter got a thorough structural test.

Turned out the sofa did just fine.

***

If Bucky’d had hackles, they’d be standing at attention. Surrounded by people he knew, most of whom were armed out of habit -- and the rest could kill him with a paperclip -- was a little nerve wracking. He hadn’t seen any of them but Steve in the better part of a year. That Tony was at his side, fingers laced with Bucky’s, made it infinitely worse and ultimately better at the same time.

He tried to keep his attention on the couple getting married; it was Sharon’s big day and all. But weddings were sort of boring, really, for everyone except the couple getting married. They sort of boiled down to “do you to agree not to be assholes to each other for the rest of your lives?” and all the rest was just an elaborate show.

Well, except for the hunting falcons that someone had let loose in the chapel right before the ceremony. That had been sort of cool, and Bucky’d had to explain Sam’s code name and while the mission he’d gotten it on was classified, Bucky was pretty sure Tony actually had a bunch of government clearances, and as long as Bucky didn’t name names, or explain what country they’d been in at the time, it was a great story.

(“It’s classified,” Bucky had said. “I don’t care what clearances you have, I’m not violating the Need to Know clause.”

“No, really,” Tony had responded, eyes big, “I _need_ to _know_.”)

If Sam and Sharon’s wedding hadn’t been on the new moon -- Bucky didn’t know if that was purposeful or a happy accident -- Bucky probably would have sent regrets and a present. Part of his deal with Fury had been proof that Bucky had himself under control. And there were a lot of potential triggers being around his co-workers who’d tried to kill him last summer.

No sense tempting fate.

It was a wedding; the preacher bored everyone to tears, songs were sung, promises were made. Sam’s niece threw flower petals everywhere, his nephew dropped the rings and then crawled around under the bridesmaids’ dresses looking for them. A candle was lit, and kisses were exchanged. Standard stuff.

Glitter was thrown instead of rice, and most of it got on the guests. Tony looked remarkably cute with glitter in his hair.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said, coming up behind them, and if Bucky was tempted to jump out of his own skin, he prided himself that no one could see it, except maybe Tony and that was okay. “Stark.”

“Rogers,” Tony returned, more or less amiably. “Camped out on any more park benches lately?”

“Not this month,” Steve said, amused. “It’s my turn next month to keep an eye on you two.”

Bucky honestly wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “It’s almost over,” Bucky said. “Two more months and I’m… done with it.” Like it was a medical condition, or board recommended therapy or something.

“You coming back?” Steve wondered. “Getting bored with civilian life?’

Bucky didn’t even think about his old job on a day to day basis. He was stymied as hell trying to find Tony’s stalker-slash-kidnapper (where the fuck had that guy gone and where the hell was he getting his resources from?). Even the two kidnappers they’d caught hadn’t been able to give them much usable information. Frustrating, but at the same time, it took up a lot of his empty hours.

“I ain’t th’ slightest bit bored,” Bucky drawled. “Tony keeps me busy.” He winked and watched Steve blush a little bit.

Tony smirked and laced his arm through Bucky’s. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” He glanced at Steve. “And do it, and do it, and do it...”

“The captain has turned on the no sharing sign,” Steve said. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stagger. “It’s good to see you again. We miss you around the office--”

“I’m not coming back,” Bucky said, firmly. “I don’t do that anymore. Steve. Sir.” He gave a sharp nod to Fury, who’d suddenly appeared like a damn magic trick. How someone who dressed so damn dramatically could _sneak_ , Bucky would never figure out. “Tony, this is Nick Fury, the Director of Operations at my old job.”

“Oh, so you’re the guy who tried to have my boyfriend killed,” Tony said, his smile suddenly wide and false. “Nice to have a face to go with the name.”

“That was last quarter. Yesterday’s enemies are tomorrow’s allies,” Fury said. “Try to keep up, Stark. We’re all good here, as long as your boy plays it straight.”

“There is nothing straight about me.” Bucky said, insolently. “Sir.”

“Confirmed,” Tony said brightly. “Well, not that I haven’t enjoyed this little dick-measuring contest, but I’m bored now. Come and dance with me, James.”

“My pleasure,” Bucky said. He led Tony onto the floor. “They’re both feeling me out to come back when this is over,” he said, very quietly, directly in Tony’s ear where Hawkeye couldn’t read his lips, if Hawkeye was here. Bucky hadn’t seen him, but he also hadn’t been checking the building’s vents or duct system.

If Tony hadn’t been in Bucky’s arms, his tiny twitch might have gone unnoticed. “Yeah, I got that,” he murmured. He glanced up at Bucky’s face. “Do you want to? Not that I’d _mind_ if you wanted to be my kept man, but while I’m sure being my de facto bodyguard is thrilling, it seems like you might get tired of it after a while.”

“I’d actually prefer it if people stopped trying to maim you,” Bucky told him. “Honey, I… wouldn’t do that to you. Months gone, not even being able to ask if I’m still alive. When-- when I did those things, I.. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to die or anything, but there… there wasn’t anything I was leaving behind that I’d miss. Thing is, I don’t… miss it. It’s a relief really, getting up in the morning and not have to worry that I’m gonna get a bullet and a shovel.” He didn’t miss the killing, either. Wondering over shots in the bar if he was chipping little pieces of his soul away, and if he was ever going to be whole again. He didn’t miss wondering if he was actually helping anyone, if the world was a safer place, or if it was just all chaos and noise and churn.

“Yeah, all right,” Tony said, with a slight shudder. “You’ll... let me know if you want to do something more, though, right? Don’t just sit around being decorative on my account.”

“As soon as this is over, I’ll consider my options, decide where I’m going from here,” Bucky promised.

The dance ended, and while it was tempting to just stay in Tony’s arms for the next and the next and the next, all night, he ought to at least make some attempts to be social. He tugged a strangely subdued Tony off to introduce him around.

“This is Scott Lang, the computers and electrical engineer wizard. Tony Stark, you know who he is, I’m sure.”

“It is a pleasure, Mr. Stark, so awesome to meet you, this is, you’re like a personal hero,” Scott babbled, still holding Tony’s hand between his. “I mean, you have no idea, I’m just speechless, really, and… I’m shaking your hand too long, it’s just getting weird, right? So sorry.” He still didn’t let go until Bucky actually snarled at him.

“It’s fine, it’s okay, I get this a lot,” Tony assured them both. “You seem like a very normal sort of guy, Mr. Lang; how’d you end up wrangling code for the spook show?”

“I um, might have hacked into the Pentagon on a dare,” Scott said. “And… it was work for them, or spend time behind bars.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Bucky said. “Scott likes the job because it lets him play with a lot of fun systems and the latest, greatest toys. And he’s tougher than he looks.”

“No, we’re not talking about that,” Scott protested. “That was like the single most embarrassing moment of my career, I was not tough, I was desperate.”

“What are we not talking about?” The bride came up behind them, smiling. “I’m glad you could make it, Barnes. I wasn’t sure if you’d even get the invite.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Bucky lied. “Sharon, Tony. And Sam, over there, he’s gotten waylaid by Stan, Stan talks a lot.” Bucky jerked his chin toward where Sam was trying to extract himself from another one of Stan Lee’s meandering stories.

“Sharon, hi, lovely ceremony, I didn’t even fall asleep once,” Scott said. “We’re not talking about nothing. Certainly not talking about Ghost. Cassie sends her love, by the way, but her stepdad didn’t think coming to the wedding was a good plan. Watches too many Bond movies, thought someone might try to assassinate the groom.”

Tony smiled for the bride. “Everyone is giving me all the dirt,” he reported, “except without any of the classified details, so it’s kind of like only getting half of a joke.” He looked over at Bucky. “Did you give her your present yet?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, you have to open it while I’m here, I know, it’s tacky and all, but you have _Tony Stark_ at your wedding, you’re already over the line for class.”

“Yes, thank you for that,” Sam said, finally joining them. “There are photographers in a freakin’ fairy circle around the church. I appreciate that, really, I do.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” Tony said blithely. “Go on, open your present. I want to see this.”

Sharon grabbed a handful of her dress in one hand, and her husband with the other, leading them over to the table where the gifts were piled. “Okay.”

“It better be a new car,” Sam said.

“I do not owe you for that car, it was a piece of crap, and a rental besides,” Bucky said. Aside, to Tony, “I might have used his car as cover once. It was work related.”

“It was not work related,” Sam protested. “I was on vacation, this happy asshole showed up with half a squad after his ass and crashed my hotel room.”

“Yeah, but did you die?” Bucky asked him. “Here, this one.”

“Not a car,” Sam mourned, looking at the shape of the package.

Sharon took it -- Pepper’d had the thing professionally wrapped and it was in a larger box than necessary, the empty space taken up with flair and scented do-dads and coils of gold ribbon and other ridiculousness -- and dug into it, pulling out a one-of-a-kind professionally printed recipe book. Signed by the author. James Barnes.

“What…” She opened the book, frowning, and then her eyes widened at the picture on the first page.

Sam looked over her shoulder and his eyes likewise widened, then narrowed. “Oh, no you did not…”

Tony cackled. “Oh yes he did!” He pointed a finger at Sam. “Would you like to explain to your lovely bride?”

“Osso boco and grilled mini vegetables,” she read. “Sam, this--” she flipped a few more pages. “Cream of Reuben soup with rye bread triangles? These… these are in order!”

“Of course they are,” Bucky said. “I had to keep a list, didn’t I, so I didn’t make the same thing twice.”

“You… so you didn’t make--”

“Dude, I just got her to say yes an’ now she’s goan divorce my ass,” Sam said, mournfully.

“Did James make-- _all_ our dates, Sam?” Sharon’s voice went up a few decibels.

“Well, not all of them,” Bucky said. “You two went out to eat, or, you know-- other stuff.”

Sharon threw her arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him hard, the book poking into his back. “Thanks,” she said. Then, very softly, so Sam couldn’t hear, she whispered in his ear. “I knew it was you, the whole time. Sam can’t make toast, much less a nine layer German chocolate cake with orange glaze.”

Bucky’d been particularly proud of that cake, it was lovely and delicate and rich all at the same time.

“You’re welcome,” he told her. “And don’t hold it against Sam, he just knew when he was outclassed.”

Tony was still laughing at the betrayed expression on Sam’s face. “Go on, admit you were owned,” he crowed.

“I still hate you,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky told him. “Look at it this way, those are idiot-proof directions. Now you can _learn_ to cook.”

“Why--” Sam grumbled, “--am I the one in the _dog house_?”

Bucky just laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

It was possible that Tony was paying more attention to Bucky, sunning on the deck, than he was to exactly where the yacht was going.

Not that it mattered much. Tony had a state-of-the-art (and plus some) navigation system with a satellite GPS, the latest maps and weather analysis software, and all the bells and whistles he could want. One of which was a chime that would sound if another vessel was detected within a certain range, or if the water was starting to get shallow, or if anything else happened that Tony would need to actually pay attention to.

For now, though, they were out on the open sea, entirely alone, and Bucky was lounging on the deck in a pair of swim trunk that didn’t leave much to the imagination, and Tony was very much enjoying the view.

It was also possible that Tony had been going just a little bit overboard in his attempts to impress Bucky. The comment Bucky had made at Sam and Sharon’s wedding about “deciding where to go” once the curse was lifted had wrapped a cold hand around Tony’s chest and squeezed, hard.

It’s not that Tony thought Bucky would disappear without so much as a backwards glance -- he seemed as fond of Tony as ever -- but Tony still didn’t know how much of that was influenced by his wolf form, who had decided Tony was _pack_. Without the wolf’s good opinion, would Bucky look back on the last months and see it as a gilded cage that he would be better off escaping? Would he begin to see Tony as a reminder of the curse?

So Tony was trying to lay in some good memories. Things for Bucky to remember fondly. He couldn’t be blamed for that, could he?

Bucky shaded his eyes with one hand. He’d been enjoying the privacy; as soon as they were out of range of the ever-watchful public, reporters, and occasionally one of Fury’s spyboys, he’d whipped off his shirt and let himself bask in the sunlight. The star on his shoulder was particularly livid; a scar that never seemed to fade, and he didn’t like people asking questions about it.

“You gonna just stand up there an’ stare, or come down and grab some sun with me?” Bucky called out. He grinned, wide and lovely, at Tony, but then his smile faded as he looked… past Tony, at something else. “Or maybe you lost your chance, boss.”

The clouds seemed to spring up from nowhere, cutting off the sun like a curtain. Cold, almost frigid, wind plucked at Tony’s hair, whispered around his ears.

A black bird landed on the deck, on the rail. _Caw. Caw._

Tony blinked at it. “Where the hell did you come from?” he demanded. They were miles from land. He turned and looked up at the clouds, shivering in the gusts they raised. He checked the weather display, which insisted that it was sunny and clear and calm. “What the hell...”

Bucky snagged up a shirt, pulled it on and started to button it up. “Holy hell, it got cold,” he complained, rubbing briskly at his arms.

Another black bird landed, almost close enough to touch. Tony didn’t know if it was a big crow or a small raven, but it was definitely something in the corvid family. It glared at Tony with inky eyes. _Caw!_

It got darker, mist moving in like a wall, until Tony could barely see Bucky, less than twenty feet away.

Tony spared the weather display another glance -- sunny and clear and hot -- and left the helm to its own devices, heading for Bucky. “Strange, if this is your idea of a practical joke,” he growled, “it’s not funny.”

Another bird, and then another, like someone throwing cards, until a whole murder was on the deck, perched on furniture, rails, walking around with hard claws on the deck. _Tack tack tack_. _Caw!_

Bucky made it to Tony’s side, reaching out for him with one hand-- but before he could make contact, he straightened up, like he’d heard some impossibly distant voice calling his name.

“What is it?” Tony asked. He looked around, but could barely see the water past the ship. He couldn’t hear anything but the rustling of feathers and the sound of talons on the deck. “Honey?”

“Come,” one of the birds said, not like a bird speaking at all, but a woman’s voice, soft and clear and lilting with an accent Tony didn’t recognize.

“To me,” another bird, same voice.

“ _Mac tìre_ ,” a third bird said.

And then they were all speaking at once. “Come to me, come to me, come to me. _Mac tìre_ , wolf, son of the wolf, come to me, come…”

Bucky stared, then closed his eyes and when they opened again, they weren’t the silvery blue shade that Tony loved, but empty and emerald green and glowing.

“Fuck.” Tony waved his hand in front of Bucky’s eyes, but they didn’t even blink, much less focus on him. “Oh, fuck, this is bad, this is so bad.”

As if of one mind, the birds took to wing, flocking and circling and leading the way. Bucky didn’t even look at them, he just followed. Obstacles didn’t seem to matter to him. He stepped over the chairs and climbed across the rails without even noticing them. He headed straight for the ocean, as if he would go overboard without even a thought.

“Bucky!” Tony lunged for him, tripping over the furniture, stumbling and righting himself. He grabbed for Bucky’s arm, but a whirlwind of the birds buffeted him, strong wings bruising him, beaks and talons threatening his arms and face until he fell back. “Bucky!”

Bucky dropped the distance down to the ocean, like he was stepping and not falling. Some current of air or magic or something slowed his plummet and he touched down gracefully on the water’s surface, which bore his weight.

He walked away without looking back, the birds calling to him in voices over his head. “Come to me, come, wolf’s son, come…”

Tony ran to the rail and clutched it as if for life. “Bucky!” he yelled. Bucky didn’t look back, just kept walking.

Snarling, Tony ran back to the helm. If someone -- some _thing_ \-- was summoning Bucky, then Tony was going to follow. What he could do, exactly, he didn’t know, but damned if he was going to just do _nothing_. Luckily, the cyclone of birds surrounding Bucky made his progress pretty easy to follow.

There was mist and there were birds, and it was cold, and for a long time, there was nothing else. They didn’t really go far, Tony thought. Bucky’s normal walking pace was a lot faster than this zombie-like obedience. The birds looped over his head, calling him a good boy, a good dog, mocking and cold. One of them perched near Tony’s shoulder, cocking its beaky little head at him.

Tony tried to shoo it away, but it just fluttered up over Tony’s head and then settled again as soon as he stopped waving at it. After a few tries, he gave up. It wasn’t like he was going to be sneaking up on whoever it was in his damn boat.

The ship’s monitors, which refused, gleefully, to acknowledge the weather, went suddenly berserk, telling him in high tech language, _land fucking ho_.

He looked at the maps. There wasn’t land near here. Not even a little bit. Not so much as a sandbar. He reset the monitor, which blinked and then shrieked its warning again. What the fuck _?_ Tony went to the window to look -- and sure enough, there was an island. Not even on the horizon, but a great deal closer than that.

What the _fuck?_

There was a dock off one side, quite a bit older than Tony’d ever tied up to before, but maybe it would do. He certainly couldn’t beach the damn yacht. Two women, dressed in pale blue robes, waited for him. “Welcome, Tony Stark,” they said, speaking exactly at the same time, “to the island of Avalon.”

On the beach, Bucky walked ashore, toward another woman; this one dressed in robes of green and black.

“You are allowed here,” the women told Tony. “Throw down your rope, and join us.”

Tony bit back his suggestion of what the women could do with their _permission_ to dock, but he hoped they could hear it in his head anyway. He clenched his jaw and threw them the mooring rope, extended the gangplank and made his way onto the dock. “Where the he--” _Be polite to the strange magical women,_ he reminded himself. _At least until you get Bucky back._ “Where is this?”

“Avalon,” one woman said, as her twin spoke, “the island of the apple trees.”

“England,” the first said, her sister a bare syllable behind her, “the resting place of the once, and future, king.”

“It is home, Tony Stark,” the first said, while the second added, “it is wherever the Morrigan wishes it to be.”  

“Avalon?” Tony said incredulously. “Like... King Arthur, and the Lady of the Lake? That Avalon?”

“Yes,” one of the women said, while the other intoned, “The king accepts visitors, sometimes. If you wish it, he would welcome you.”

On the shore, Bucky went to his knees in front of the woman in green, displaying the back of his neck, forehead touching the sand, the water lapping at bare toes.

“The _mac tìre_ ,” one of the women said, and her sister behind her, “the cursed, the half-man.”

Tony’s hands curled into fists. “What is she doing to him?”

“Our sister is disappointed,” and man, that was getting old, the sing song, speaking on top of each other thing. “He has proven her false prophecy. He lives, he reforms.”

“He thrives,” they said together. “And he loves.”

Tony didn’t know about _love_ \-- they’d been together for more than half a year, now, and neither of them had said it (at least not aloud) -- but he did know an evasion when he heard one. “She’s interfering with the terms of the challenge. He doesn’t belong to her. Make her let him go.”

“She cannot break her own rules,” the sisters told him. “The curse must live out, as she has laid it down.”

“To interfere, now,” they continued, “could destroy her own powers. She cannot change him, or his conditions.”

“She can only cause him pain,” they said. “Or encourage him to fulfill the curse’s conditions.”

“We cannot speak with her,” they said. “But you are free to confront her.”

One of the sisters held out her hand. “Morgan is our sister. She is not, however, always in the right. Will you accept my blessing, Tony Stark?”

Tony hesitated, considering her. “Who are you, and what will it do to me?” he asked, as politely as he knew how.

“Mazoe is what your myths and legends have named me,” she said. “It will protect you from Morgan’s magic, while you are on this island. I mean you no ill, Tony Stark.”

“...Sure,” Tony agreed. “Protect away.”

She took his hand and dropped into it a single seed. “You know the story of the Apple,” she said. “Do not eat the seed, nor plant it and eat of that fruit. That way lies only misery. But carry it close to your heart, and cast it into the sea when you depart.”

“It will tell you,” the other sister said, “when Morgan is lying.”

Tony looked at the seed, and then at the sisters, and then back at the seed. It looked like a pretty normal apple seed. _Magic_ , he sighed internally, and closed his hand around it so he wouldn’t lose it. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “So, we _are_ going to be departing, then?”

They looked at each other, then back at him. “You will,” they said, in that weird harmony.

Tony wasn’t sure if he should be reassured or disturbed. _More_ disturbed. “Thank you,” he said again, because he’d read enough to know it never hurt to be too polite to fairies or women of power.

On the beach, Bucky made a sound, a pained yelp as one of the birds landed on his shoulder and pecked at him. He didn’t, however, move from his spot, still kneeling at Morgan’s feet like he intended to stay there forever.

Tony ground his teeth, his hands clenched tightly enough that he could feel the apple seed pressing into his palm. “How do I get him back from her?”

“Remind her of the truth of it,” the sisters said. “He has not fulfilled the conditions, or the breaking of, the curse.”

“You cannot fight her. She is beyond that.”

Tony huffed. “Too bad. Fighting, I know how to do.” He took a step toward the beach, recalled old stories heard at his nurse’s knee, and later at Ana’s, and turned back to the sisters. “By your leave,” he asked, bowing, only a little awkwardly.

“Go, with grace, and courage, and luck.” There was a tingle at that, like he’d stepped off a shag carpet and touched a doorknob, a sharp shock and his whole body felt electrified. The girl who had not given him her name winked at him. Had she done something, without his permission, and, even more dangerous, without her sister’s knowledge?

Tony hesitated, then summoned his most charming press smile for them, and turned back toward the beach. He made his way over the sand to Morgan and Bucky. “Let him go,” he said when he was close enough he thought she would hear.

“The boyfriend,” Morgan said, and she looked up at him, her eyes the same green that Bucky’s had turned. “How lovely and full of life you are. So very _young_.” She moved toward him, but at the same time, she didn’t move at all. It was if he’d been transported to her side, close enough for her to touch him. Disorienting. Disturbing.

“Let him go,” Tony repeated. “He’s not yours.”

“No, he’s not,” she said. “Not mine, not yet. The beast, the little monster, the human who plays at being a god. Who was he, to spill blood, and not for glory, or vengeance, or even for gold, but _on orders_? A _mission_? Did he tell you about it, the way the cloak of cold would fall over him, and he could see them and know that they would die? Did he tell you that he _relished_ it? That it made him feel powerful? Did he tell you that?”

The seed in Tony’s hand was cold, cold like a pellet of ice that wouldn’t melt.

“No,” Tony said, “because that’s a lie. And he’s not the only one to have spilt blood on orders.”

“One of the few who matters,” Morgan said, “because he had no right to the blood of my father, he had _no right_ to take that. To snuff out the life of a son of Oberon like it was a candle? No, there are not so many men who have done such a thing as that. Not so many human men who have spilled fae blood.”

That was not a lie, and Morgan bared teeth at him that were ivory white and sharp as knives.

Tony refused to take a step back, reminded himself to breathe. “And you punished him with your curse, with the challenge,” he returned. “He cannot complete the challenge like this.”

“A challenge he would have _failed_ , if you had not interfered,” she said. “Given him sanctuary and the protection of your vast empire. He would have failed, and perhaps, he would have been hunted down and killed like the beast he is. Or, if he showed great valor, perhaps I would have brought him here, to serve me. A winter’s soldier, for the glory of the fae. Hmm? He has such a pretty face. It would give me great pleasure to look on it, for the rest of his days.”

She reached down and cupped Bucky’s chin, forcing him up, to his feet, to his tiptoes, until she was choking him. His feet left the sand and he dangled here in her grip. Bucky tried to pry her hand off him, but she was immovable as stone.

“What do you say, boyfriend, will you bargain for him? Make a tribute worthy of my brother’s life? In exchange for this one?”

Tony prayed he was doing the right thing. “No,” he said. “You can’t kill him. The curse binds you as much as it does him. And you never said he had to face it alone.”

Morgan growled and threw Bucky to the ground where he shivered and coughed and spluttered. “You’re all animals,” she said. “He’s a beast and you _let him_ take you. He’s a monster, and he eats at your table, when he’s not licking your feet like the craven creature he is. You’ve taken in the worst that humans have become and pretend that his devotion _means something_. It means _nothing_.”

“That’s--” Bucky gasped, “--that’s a lie.”

“It means something to me,” Tony said, as evenly as he could. “Which is all I need.” He smiled thinly. “Are you _jealous_ , Morgan?”

“Would it please you if I were?” And Morgan suddenly turned all sly coquette, beautiful and ethereal. “Would you wish to let me give you _my_ kiss, and all that comes with it? Immortality, knowledge, power. Take your place at my side, as consort to the queen of magic?”

Tony shivered. He couldn’t deny the lure. “No,” he said again. “I’ve got him. That’s all I want.”

Morgan gave him an enchanting smile. “Let me know if you change your mind,” she said. “Take him, then. Take him and leave. Do not linger, lest I change my mind. But know this. He won’t succeed. I’ve Seen it. He’ll fail and he’ll fall and there’s nothing you can do to save him.”

“I don’t need to save him,” Tony said. “He’ll save himself.” He reached out a hand for Bucky, groping, not taking his eyes off Morgan, keeping his other hand clenched tight around the apple seed.

Morgan watched them go, her birds gathered around her, the complete murder. Her eyes were the last thing Tony saw of her before the mists closed around her and she was gone. The sisters on the dock were gone, too, and as they walked over the dock, the island was slowly fading around them. The instant Tony’s foot left the boards, that, too, disappeared.

A moment later, they were back in brilliant sunshine, no land to be seen anywhere.

Bucky fell to his knees on the deck, gasping for air. There were purple marks on his throat and a ragged gash on his face, near his ear, where Morgan’s bird had pecked him. “That… that was not fun.”

Tony uncurled his fist and looked at the apple seed there. For a moment, he was tempted... But then Bucky coughed, and Tony shook himself out of it. He wound up and threw the seed as hard as he could out into the ocean, then dropped to kneel at Bucky’s side. “Oh god,” he croaked, “that was terrifying.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “first time, I spent a week drinkin’ and tryin’ to convince myself it was some kinda hallucination. Until I changed th’ first time and I couldn't deny it anymore.”

Tony put his arms around Bucky and held on as tight as he could, tucking his face down against Bucky’s chest. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Bucky shuddered. “She is so angry… she thinks I'm. That you're cheating the system. He who has the gold makes the rules. That you're _buying_ my freedom. I ain't earned it.”

“Yeah, I got that. But it’s not against the rules, so fuck it.”

“Can, uh. Can we go home now?” Bucky asked. “Not like I'm safe from her, not anywhere, but right now, this feels real damn _unsafe_.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. He let himself cling to Bucky for another minute, then slowly stood. “Yeah, let’s go home.”


	21. Chapter 21

They ate dinner early, like they always did on the first night of the full moon. Bucky shook his head, amused that there was an _always_ for something like that. It should be a thing of nightmares, his change and how little he could still control it, sometimes. The way his body ripped and tore and rebuilt itself into a beast, that shouldn’t be something he could get used to, that he could prepare for, that he could have a routine for.

And yet, they did.

Bucky packed away calories for the shift; it made the involuntary changes easier if he was well fueled and well rested. Tony had ordered Italian from one of his favorite restaurants, so Bucky didn’t _have to_ cook. Tony’d cracked a bottle of red wine for dinner, and Bucky was on his second glass -- a little bit of booze eased some of the pain involved in the transformation, as well. Bucky wasn’t big on pain, but it hadn’t occurred to him to try to do something about it until he saw the way his transformation affected _Tony_.

Tony wasn’t terrified, the way Pepper still was, although she tried to pretend she wasn’t. More he was… upset because Bucky was in pain.

Which was a first, really.

“Here’s to the last time,” Bucky said. He felt pretty confident than that was true; he hadn’t done anything illegal in slightly more than a year, and he and Tony didn’t have any pressing plans for his last shift. Stay at home.

There was a part of Bucky -- a big part, if he had to be honest -- that was going to miss being Tony’s pet. Wolf-him was a little more carefree, a little less reserved. Wolf-him was impulsive, outgoing, generally loving. Kind. Wolf-him, Bucky thought, was the kind of man he might have been if he’d never joined the army.

“To the last time,” Tony agreed with a warm smile. He clinked his glass against Bucky’s and took a sip. “You know, it’s crazy,” he mused. “I won’t miss the transformation -- but I’ll kind of miss your wolf, a little.”

Bucky nodded. “I hear that,” he said. “I’m not… sounds crazy to say, but I’m not at all the man I used to be. Not sure how much of that was the wolf. I don’t know what I’ll be like next week. But I’ll have my whole life in front of me again, not this hiatus. Couldn’t really, you know, make plans or think about the future when I was tryin’ to get through, one change at a time.”

He eyed Tony thoughtfully. What would _Tony_ be like, when there wasn’t a wolf around. Not that Bucky wasn’t adequate protection against that psycho, T. He hoped. “Almost wish I could put it off, ‘til we nail T to a wall.” They’d allowed one of the press reporters to put in the papers that Tony’s pet knew what the kidnapper smelled like, and that, at least, had seemed to put T on guard. He hadn’t made a move, or sent a note, since the ill-fated kidnapping attempt. Of course, he’d disappeared off the fucking planet, too.

Tony shrugged awkwardly. “It may never happen. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the rest of your life because you’re protecting mine.” He stood up, gathering the dishes and tableware. “Have you been thinking about your plans?”

“Little bit,” Bucky said, somewhat cagey. He didn’t think Tony was tracking his browsing history, and it wasn’t like he could go out without Tony, but… no sense in tipping his hand.

And Tony was a futurist, he said so himself, all the damn time, and he’d never, ever mentioned making their relationship more permanent. More… official, more committed. Right now, Bucky was just the boyfriend, and the press, their friends, and family, were all sort of holding their breath, waiting for one or both of them to revert to form. And only one pesky little reporter -- some blonde twitterpated nitwit -- had asked them if they were thinking about someone changing their name.

Well, it wouldn’t be Tony; his name was on the side of the damn building, and it’d probably look ridiculous to rename the tower “Barnes.”

“I got a few things I’m kicking around, seeing how this all settles,” Bucky said, draining the last bit of his wine. The sun was getting real low. He put the glass down on the table.

“Good, good,” Tony said, though it sounded a little strained. He dropped the dishes in the sink and then glanced at his watch. “Closing in on time.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He didn’t even need to look at the time, or the sun; he could feel it in his bones. It was almost like it was part of him now, and… it hurt, in his throat, thinking this was the last time. Three more walks in the park, three more nights of movies and snuggles. “Christ. It kinda hurts, don’t it, thinkin’... this is it. It’s really almost over.”

Tony took a shaky breath. “Yeah, a little. But hey, no more hiding or worrying about public exposure, right?”

“No more damn leashes, ‘cept maybe in a fun way,” Bucky said. He got up, embraced Tony from behind, wrapped Tony up in Bucky’s arm, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “It’s… been an adventure, ain’t it, though? You an’ me?”

Tony froze for a few seconds, then said, “Sure, an adventure. On to bigger and better things, though, I guess.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, dammit,” Bucky said. He kissed Tony’s neck. “Okay, gonna go get naked and furry. And not in the fun way. Back as soon as it’s over. I… uh, yeah.” He almost said it, _almost_.

_Let me just get through this,_ he thought. _Let me get through this, when I got something to offer him that ain’t a half life, that ain’t living with a monster, that ain’t… that ain’t this. And then I’ll tell him._

Tony pulled him back before he could walk out and kissed him again, hard, almost desperate. “One for the road,” he said, and grinned, a little lopsided.

_Gonna kiss you for days, once I’m done with this bullshit,_ Bucky thought, but didn’t say, because Tony would drag him back for another, and another, and Bucky didn’t know what would happen if Tony was standing right next to him when the change started. He was headed for the bedroom, peeling off his clothes as he went, the fire in his bones turning molten as he went.

***

Tony tried to suppress his feelings while he waited for Bucky to come back. Bucky had told him that the wolf cold smell the subtle hormonal shifts that signaled mood changes, and he would worry if Tony was sad.

At least, he tried to console himself, it seemed like they would part on good terms, if they parted.

Tony knocked back another half-glass of the wine and winced at the muffled cries coming from the bedroom. He wished the change didn’t have to be so painful. There was one good thing that would come from the end of this, at least.

There was a dull thud, then a crash -- yeah, there went the bedroom lamp. Again. That mid-way, monstrous form really had no control of where its tail and obscenely long limbs were. At least, Tony thought, Bucky would never be stuck like _that_ , nine feet of killing machine. The monster that Morgan thought Bucky was.

Bucky came trotting back into the kitchen, tail going a mile a minute. He went right up to Tony, planted his head roughly in Tony’s belly. His tongue snuck out and left a wet streak on the sliver of skin between the shirt and jeans, before he whined and looked over his shoulder at the bedroom, puppy eyes going full force.

“Yeah, I heard the lamp,” Tony said, and Bucky’s pitiful look made him chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to look into wall-mounted lamps by the bed, anyway.”

Bucky emptied his water bowl in a few hasty gulps, then followed Tony into the bedroom to watch him set the lamp back up, sweep up and discard the broken lightbulb.

It was full dark before Bucky took up his spot on the sofa and pointedly looked at the empty place beside him.

“Movie night, huh?” Tony smiled and took his spot next to Bucky on the couch. At least he had a few days left with the wolf’s uncomplicated and undivided affection. He curled his fingers into Bucky’s fur, stroking through the silky texture.

By the time the movie was half done, Bucky was stretched out across Tony’s entire lap, making _yow yow_ complaining noises every time the movie violated the laws of physics. Which was surprisingly often, really.

After the movie, Bucky went to the window and looked out at the moon, hanging huge against a backdrop of black and the orange of reflected city lights. It seemed brighter, somehow, than usual. A silver circle in the sky, marking the passage of time, the end of an era. Bucky whined, low and sad, then got back down and padded over to Tony, bumping his head under Tony’s hand.

Tony scratched his ears and then pulled him into a hug. “Yeah, I’m going to miss you, too, buddy.” He buried his face against Bucky’s neck.

***

Tony stood in line for his coffee, Bucky pressed against his leg, and went over the story in his head. Gwen had already spotted them and waved cheerfully -- another person who was going to miss Bucky’s wolf.

_We just found out that he’s a full wolf,_ Tony mentally rehearsed. _I can’t keep him. They’re going to take him to a wildlife preserve and try to introduce him to one of the packs there._

That was sort of a happy ending, anyway, right? For Bucky, if not for Tony.

Gwen would be sad, too, but she’d understand. She’d give Bucky an extra big hug, a little extra love to take with him to... wherever it was that the wolf would go when the curse ended.

Next to him, Bucky whined a little and pushed his head under Tony’s hand, sensing his melancholy. Tony summoned a little smile and scratched Bucky’s ears, then stepped up to the counter.

“Hey,” Gwen said, “how’s my favorite boys?” She bounced around the side of the kiosk. “My favorite boys ever!” She was just handing off the coffee when--

Everything seemed to happen all at once, but at the same time in distinct, almost photographic clarity, like a slide show.

Bucky let out a sharp yip as hot coffee went everywhere.

Gwen shrieked, right in his ear.

Tony was shoved, hard, in his shoulder, and it took a moment…

… there was pain, oh, God, _pain…_

Blood. There was blood, and it was splattered across Gwen’s face like a Rorschach ink blot.

They were on the ground, and Tony didn’t remember how they’d gotten there. Tony’s throat was sore and rough, but he didn’t remember yelling. He must have, though. Gwen was still screaming, and there was _more_ blood blossoming across the front of her uniform. The other customers were running, scattering in all directions, yelling.

“Fuck, oh fuck--” He tried to push himself up, but his shoulder wouldn’t move, and trying turned the pain into a searing hot poker of agony.

Bucky grabbed the collar of Gwen’s shirt in his teeth and pulled her back, behind the coffee counter. She stopped screaming, but every short, panting breath came out on a whimper. Tony tried to crawl after them, grunting with each movement that jarred his shoulder.

A moment later, Bucky was there, low to the ground, sliding under Tony’s arm to help him move.

Something on the coffee counter exploded in a rush of burning sugar and paper bits, and the shot rang out a second later. People in the park were screaming, fleeing. Bucky half-dragged, half-helped Tony get behind the counter, next to Gwen, propped up near the small fridge unit. The front of the counter and the insulated box would _probably_ stop most rounds.

Tony’s shoulder was on fire, but the amount of blood pouring from Gwen’s torso was alarming. Tony put his hand over the shredded hole in her shirt and pressed down, trying to stop the flow. Shit, shit, fuck, what the fuck was happening?

He looked up. Where the fuck was _Bucky?_

***

Bucky swore, a series of violent growls and snarls coming out of his throat. He had to cudgel his wolf-brain into working. Tony had taken the shot in the shoulder, the shooter probably hadn’t calculated for the slight summer breeze, and that was good, because it moved the bullet from severing Tony’s spinal cord to going through the meaty part of his shoulder.

Damn it, this was math Bucky could do in his head when he was human, when he wasn’t distracted, when Tony wasn’t whining in pain, and when one of his favorite humans wasn’t bleeding out from a gut-shot when it had gone straight through Tony’s body and probably was lodged somewhere near her spine.

Bucky leaped up onto the coffee kiosk, trying to get above, away from the mob of panic and fear -- it was thick in his nostrils, the smell of terror, confusion.

He might not have been able to find the shooter at all, except the fucking idiot tried to shoot him off the kiosk with a _sniper rifle_. Good luck with that, moron. If he couldn’t dope the wind, he wasn’t going to be able to hit a moving target.

There. A flash of golden hair and a black -- was the idiot wearing a tac-jacket right out in public?

Bucky checked, quick. Tony was okay, he was dealing with Gwen. They’d be safer if Bucky could nail the shooter. Everyone would be safer. Only a complete fucking dickwad would shoot into a crowded park like this, with no care for casualties and collateral damage.

Bucky jumped down and his toenails were tearing up the soft grass in the park, racing toward his enemy with no thought, with no howl. Why warn him?

He ran.

The shooter must have seen him coming. Two more shots rang out -- someone screamed, and Bucky didn’t have time to check if they were hit, or just scared. He zigzagged, in case the shooter was trying to lead him into a bullet.

The bullet, when it struck him, was a white hot bolt of pain, in through his hind leg, near his tail and out the other side. Lucky shot, but it threw off his balance.

Bucky rolled, tumbled, yipping with it, and when he shook himself and got back up, his left foreleg was burning, aching, and--

The curse.

The goddamn curse. He threw a look back over his shoulder-- he could still see the coffee kiosk with the panic and confusion going on around that area. He was too far away, much further than even Tony’s Bluetooth leash could reach him.

A black bird landed near him, eyeing him with inky satisfaction.

The bird was there, the pain in his shoulder was there. He could back off, let the shooter go, head back to Tony and maybe do some good there.

Another shot rang out, shooting up sod near Bucky’s paws. Or that asshole could endanger more people, could take more innocent lives. The wind changed, and the smell of the shooter-- purple and dark and full of hatred.

_T._

No random disillusioned white-boy with a gun here, looking for his 15 minutes of fame. This was a deliberate, specific attempt on Tony’s life.

There was no choice here, none at all. Bucky could live by the law.

Or he could die, as a good man.

He got to his paws and started running, ignoring the pain, ignoring the throb in his shoulder, he ran.

He was growling, the chilling sound huge in his ears.

T dropped the sniper rifle and fled. Well, maybe he wasn’t entirely stupid, Bucky thought, even if the man had no prayer of outrunning a wolf, even an injured one.

There were already cops gathering in the park; the bright, spinning lights were distracting. His shoulder hurt, his thigh hurt, and _fuck_ , he thought his damn tail might be broken, the way it was throwing off his balance. Well, that was awkward and weirdly embarrassing.

Bucky ran.

There was a knot of cops, setting up their mobile operations; Bucky dodged, pushing T in that direction. Forcing him to flee a full grown wolf, right into a batch of cops.

Bucky closed the distance. There was another familiar smell; that detective, Misty Knight. She knew him. He dodged again, forced T in that direction instead, biting at heels that were just in range.

T was screaming, the cops were staring. There were guns in hand, and Bucky was going to die in a clusterfuck of scared cops who had a KTF directive. He leaped, flattening T to the ground with a dull thud.

There were guns everywhere.

Bucky sat down on the struggling mass of human that was T, that was the shooter.

“Wait, wait, hold your fire,” Detective Knight was yelling, and Bucky watched as the woman slapped the gun out of the hands of the man next to her. “Do not shoot that dog.”

Bucky’s front leg was bleeding. Gushing, really, blood matting his fur. His ass hurt. His thighs hurt.

There was another black bird, and then another, and another.

_He will fail and he will fall and you cannot save him._

_Bitch!_ Bucky growled. Morgan would stick to the letter of the law in order to jam her point home. Bucky was a good man; he was a bad dog.


	22. Chapter 22

When the paramedics arrived, Tony pushed them at Gwen, who was clearly the worst injured. One of them took over Tony’s place holding pressure on the wound -- pressed harder, in fact, until Gwen cried out. The other got to work starting an IV.

Tony backed away, then turned to look for Bucky. He didn’t see the wolf anywhere. Tony wiped his bloody hands on his pants, kept looking. There! A knot of cops, and was that a glimpse of shaggy black fur? Tony stumbled in that direction, vaguely aware of the fire in his shoulder but not able to care.

Another EMT tried to stop him. “Sir--”

“No!” Tony snarled, pushing the man out of the way.

He tried again. “Sir, you’re hurt, let’s get you--”

“Get out of my way!” Tony yelled, and ran.

The police were focused inward, didn’t see Tony until he reached the edge of their cluster.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay back,” one said firmly.

Tony growled. “That’s my, my dog,” he said, pushing forward. “Bucky!” He shoved past the cop trying to hold him back. “Bucky, are you... Oh my god.”

That was Ty. There, on the ground, handcuffed and still spitting in rage. Tiberius Stone.

_T_.

It had been Ty all along.

Tony dropped to his knees in shock. He’d thought Ty hadn’t even cared about their breakup. Ty had _laughed_ , kissed Tony’s cheek, and strolled away with a cheerful wave and a “See you around, Tony.” How could Ty be _T_?

A soft whine broke Tony out of his stupor. “Bucky!” Tony crawled forward. Bucky was lying on the pavement, blood streaming from two legs, tail painfully crooked. “Oh my god, Bucky, sweetheart, what did he do to you?” Tony stroked his hand down Bucky’s neck, heedless of the sticky, matted blood on both of them.

Bucky lifted his head, pain and sorrow in those big puppy eyes, and licked at Tony’s hand. He turned his head, and Tony followed his gaze to see three big black birds perched on a nearby bike rack.

“No,” Tony whispered. “No, you didn’t do anything!” Bucky whined again, nudged his nose at Tony’s pocket where he kept his keys and... And the remote for the bluetooth leash.

“No,” Tony repeated. “Oh, god, no.” He looked down, and yes, half the blood was coming from that star-shaped scar on Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky. Oh, Bucky, no, _why?_ ”

Bucky whined, scooched forward a little dragging his injured leg, and nosed at Tony’s chest. He looked up at Tony, blinked a few times as if he was trying, desperately trying, to tell Tony something. Last words, and the bitch of it was, Bucky couldn’t talk. Nosed Tony’s chest -- the left side of his chest. Blinked. Stared at Tony.

“Chest-- heart?”

For a wolf, Bucky had an amazingly sarcastic eyeroll.

Tony’s breath caught. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, okay,” he rasped. “I love you too.”

“Mr. Stark--” That was the detective, what was her name again? Missy? Mindy? Something. “--don’t worry, I ain’t goan let ‘em shoot your dog. Can I just, maybe, get you to stop bleeding in my crime scene?” The woman was striding toward them, and then she just--

Stopped.

Everything stopped. The sirens stopped spinning, the police stopped jabbering. Detective Knight was mid-stride, mouth open like she was still talking, but as motionless as a statue.

Everything.

Except for Tony.

And Bucky, who whined once, soft.

Fog gushed into the park until Tony could barely see anything except for Bucky and the bit of grass they were currently bleeding on.

"They will not see that you have gone, and they will not know when you have returned. A million moments could pass. We exist between the ticks of a clock. Come with me." The woman, dressed in her pale blue robes, stepped out of the mist. Mazoe, of the nine sisters.

Bucky shifted in Tony’s lap, and then _shifted_ , dropping out of his wolf form, the fur disappearing, muzzle retreating, until he was a man, without pain, without the grotesque monster in between, just a simple movement, and then Bucky was looking up at him. He touched Tony’s cheek with bloody knuckles. “I love you, idiot.”

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and kissed the palm. “I thought you were... leaving,” he admitted. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Bucky’s hand for a moment. “I love you.” He glanced up, sighed. “Let’s go.” He climbed painfully to his feet and helped Bucky up with his good arm.

A few steps into the mist and Tony felt the ground shift under his feet, from sod and grass to sand. Back on the beach, back at Avalon. He wasn’t even going to bother to wonder how it was possible; that way lay migraines and insanity.

Mazoe was waiting for them. Another sister -- not the one Tony had met before -- gave Bucky a simple robe of plain wool.

“You have, as my sister predicted, failed to discharge the curse,” Mazoe said, and she seemed sad about it.

“I couldn’t--” Bucky protested. “The shooter _was still armed_. I couldn’t let him endanger more people. Gwen, is she--” He turned to Tony, anxious.

“The EMTs have her, they’re doing everything they can,” Tony said.

“Morgan is choosing to honor the letter, not the spirit,” Mazoe said. “She labors under her own restrictions. She is not allowed, directly, to take a human life. The King of the Fae has forbidden it. But she hungers for your blood.” She spread her hands. “The terms of the curse must be fulfilled. There is nothing anyone can do; even if we could convince Morgan to change her mind. A curse exists in a single loop: break, or fulfill.”

“Why bring us here, then?” Tony demanded. His heart was breaking. All he wanted to do was mourn.

“I believe the terms of Morgan’s sentence have been met,” Mazoe said. “You have reformed. Perhaps you were never truly evil, but remorseless and uncaring. You have changed, you have repented your past, you are striving toward a better future. I cannot change the terms of the curse, but I can offer alternatives.”

“First, the silver blade,” she said, gesturing. “Your death will be quick and painless. You will not be given a chance to harm others.”

Another sister came out of the mist, bearing a dagger on a cushion.

“No,” Tony whispered, tightening his hold on Bucky’s hand. Tears obscured his vision.

“Or another, harder task. Live this life, as it has been given to you. I cannot change the conditions and terms of the curse, that is true, but there are many varieties of _mac tìre_ , the wolf, Luna’s children. You do not have to be a mindless monster. You will always be a beast, but one with heart, mind, and soul of the man you are.”

A third sister, bearing a vial containing greenish liquid, came forth.

“What… what are you saying, always be a wolf? An animal, but--” Bucky blanched.

“As you are now, as you have been for these thirteen moons, split and divided between the two. Accepting it, your changes would be easier, more under your control, and you would not have the spectre of _Chrinos_ , the monster, over you. And, as the terms of the curse are concluded, it would be your choice, which laws of men and animals you follow, and which ones you chose to break, with no penalty incurred, save what would naturally be enforced by those who hold the laws.”

“How is that harder?” Tony wondered. He looked at Bucky. “Is it-- has it been that terrible?”

“There will be those who hunt him, if they discover what he is. Alchemists who wish to learn, hunters who wish the glory. A secret kept, each year, can become a rot in the soul. And the question, who could ever, truly, love a beast? But it is life, and it is a chance. And it is all that I can do for you. For that, you have my abject apologies,” Mazoe said.

Tony grunted. “ _I_ love you,” he told Bucky. “All of you. Stay with me.”

“I was already plannin’ that part,” Bucky said. “My choice is to live. Half beast, half man, all of me, all of me, Tony, loves all of you.” He pointed to the vial.

“Drink it, and return to the world of men, exactly as you left it, and remember us,” Mazoe said. She took the vial up and handed it over to Bucky, a crystal tube with a golden stopper. “Morgan will always be your enemy. Take care in your dealings; she is as patient as she is cruel.”

Bucky eyed the tube dubiously, then held it out to Tony. “Can, uh, I get a hand here with th’ top?”

Two good arms between them. Tony reached out to pry the stopper from the vial as Bucky held it steady. He glanced at Mazoe and her sisters. “Thank you.”

Bucky sniffed at the contents. “I don’t want to know what’s in here, do I?”

Mazoe gave him a smile. “I very much doubt it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and tipped the contents into his mouth in a single swallow, throat working rapidly as he leaned his head back.

He gasped, gagged. The robe slipped off his shoulders and the mark on his shoulder went from bloody, brilliant and open, to bright green for an instant, and his whole body was lined in the same witchglow. Tony staggered back, unconsciously shielding his eyes.

Bucky transformed, fur growing over his body, arms shortening, legs pulling up under him. He yelped once, as his tail sprouted, still bent and broken.

“He will heal, in time, as all such creatures do,” Mazoe said. She leaned closer, her words for Tony alone. “Wolves,” she told him, “mate for life.”

Tony looked up at met her eyes, which were not at all, on close inspection, like human eyes. “I can live with that.”

“Farewell, Tony Stark,” she said, gesturing with one hand to an opening in the mist. “Go, and resume your life.”

Tony hadn’t realized that something -- the sisters’ magic, or that of the place itself, or the freezing of time -- had muted his pain, until it flared back to life. He gasped and clutched at his shoulder, even as Bucky let out a pained yip and Detective Knight resumed her stride toward them.

“Come on,” she said briskly, “let’s get you out of the way and over to the medics.” She helped Tony up, and rolled her eyes when Tony immediately bent down to try to pick up Bucky. “We’ll send someone for him, Mr. Stark,” she said impatiently.

“I’m not going anywhere without Bucky,” Tony said stubbornly, gritting his teeth through the pain.

Bucky whined as -- Mary? No, _Misty_ , that was it! -- tried to manhandle Tony off toward an ambulance. He made an enormous effort, and then limped and hopped toward them, as unsteady as a three-day drunk.

“That is one dedicated damn dog,” Knight said, shaking her head. “Come on, _both_ of you, then.”

“You were _mine_ , Stark,” Ty spat as another cop pushed him toward a patrol car. Unfair in the extreme: Ty didn’t seem to be injured, just dirty. “And if I can’t have you, no one--” The cop didn’t bother to put a hand on Ty’s head, and Tony could hear the hollow thud as Ty cracked his head against the doorframe, cutting off his tirade. Well, maybe life was a _little bit_ fair.

Bucky limping at his side, Tony let Knight lead him back toward the ambulances.

***

“--Detective Knight, who was in the area on personal business, rushed to the scene, putting her badge on the line to keep responding officers from shooting this heroic and loyal dog,” the newscaster said. The floating photo showed Misty posed with Bucky, who had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder and his tongue lolling out happily.

“Congratulations,” Tony said, ruffling Bucky’s fur. “You’re a celebrity.”

Bucky barked once. _Yes._

The newscaster went on to describe “scenes of terror in New York City,” and the injuries. No deaths, which was good, but lots of people had been hurt and trampled, and besides Gwen -- the picture of her was a perky girl, drumming in a garage band -- two other people had been shot. At least they all were listed in stable condition.

Bucky whimpered and turned around to gnaw at the bandage and splint that held his tail; Tony had protested that Bucky did not need a cone of shame, but Tony was beginning to reconsider that, if he kept chewing at the wounds.

“Stop that,” he chided. “I know it itches. That means it’s healing.” His shoulder did not itch. It still burned and ached, and Tony was very grateful for the little bottle of very excellent painkillers the hospital had issued him.

The news went on to profile Tiberius Stone, his torrid love affair with Tony Stark (with appropriate paparazzi photos) -- Bucky stopped gnawing at his fur long enough to snarl at the screen -- and his reasons behind the shooting.

“This lone-wolf shooter has no previous criminal record, but authorities say he has a long history of domestic violence. Apparently he felt his betrayal and grievances with billionaire, Tony Stark, justified--”

Bucky pawed at the remote until the television switched off.

“No more TV tonight?” Tony asked, smiling. He wrapped his good arm around Bucky’s back and let himself slump a little further. “I’m so glad it’s all over.”

Bucky tucked his chin over Tony’s arm, licking at his hand.

**Woof.**

_Yes._

Later, Tony thought, Bucky would want an explanation; who Ty really was, what had led to the breakup, and probably, given the news tidbit, if Ty had ever gotten violent with Tony before the stalker shit started.

He hadn’t ever raised a hand to Tony, but Tiberius Stone had been jealous, controlling, suspicious. He’d demanded to know who Tony was talking to, texting with. Tony had caught him several times going through Tony’s phone or emails. Tony had thought it was cute, at first. Evidence that Ty loved him, and Tony had always been just a little bit desperate to find someone that cared, someone that thought Tony Stark  _mattered_.

He hadn’t known what that would look like. How it would feel.

Now he did.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on top of Bucky’s head. “Love you,” he said. He’d been saying it a lot, an outpouring of emotion that he’d been keeping bottled up for months. “No regrets?”

Bucky woofed twice, light and soft, and then poked his nose at Tony’s chest. _No regrets. Love you, too._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the smut averse: Once they start talking about sexytimes, the rest of the chapter is smuts.

“Ow,” Bucky complained, getting off the sofa to greet Tony as he walked in.

“What, what hurts, are you okay?” And there went Tony, mother-henning like his own damn arm wasn’t still in a sling, like he hadn’t been shot through-and-through, and didn’t have the advantage of accelerated healing.

“Nothing,” Bucky said, because that was also true. For the first time in about ten days, he got up and _nothing_ hurt. He’d been wolf most of those ten days, because Dr. Strange had recommended not shifting much while his tail was still broken, but even after it healed up, his tailbone still _hurt_ , and that had transferred over to basically an ass-ache and a half in human form. “Nothing hurts, I’m just… in the habit of saying ow when I get up, so I got up, and it just sort of fell out of my mouth.”

Tony just looked at him for a moment, then laughed. “Okay,” he said. “You’re slightly ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, you love it,” Bucky said. He was a lot ridiculous. He knew it, he owned it. He wasn’t that guy anymore, the one who built a bubble between himself and the world. Thawing out had been painful, but worth it. “Come here, come here.” He tucked Tony under his arm, being careful not to jostle his injuries.

Tony let Bucky draw him in, leaning in and pressing his whole body against Bucky’s, tucking his face in against Bucky’s neck like he was soaking in the warmth. “Mm. You smell nice tonight.”

“Better than wet dog,” Bucky joked. He cupped one hand in the back of Tony’s hair, another along the side of his jaw. “Hey, I-- without all the fuss and urgency of th’ near death experiences an’ the cursed for life shit, all that. I jus’... I ain’t never…” Bucky could feel his neck heating and he bit at his lip. “Tony, thank you. For everythin’. For giving me someplace to belong, really belong, an’ jus’... I wanted to say… I love you.”

Tony’s eyes went misty and soft, and he leaned up to brush a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I love you, too.”

“Good. Good,” Bucky said, and he started lightly tugging at Tony’s tie, slipping the knot loose. “How was the deposition?”

Bucky-the-wolf obviously couldn’t testify or give any evidence, and James-the-boyfriend had to stay out of the public eye, because explaining why he and the dog had the same damn injuries was going to take more creative bullshit than even Tony could come up with on short notice. At some point, Bucky thought, he needed to get some sort of job that could excuse all these long absences. Maybe.

“It was fine,” Tony said. “I’m not sure what defense Ty’s law team is planning, but at this point, they’re probably down to insanity or possession.”

“I might go for possession,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. “Who knows, it could be true, and the amount of planning he put into this pretty clearly rules out insanity. People who’ve lost their minds are more a danger to themselves than others, really.” It was all Bucky could do not to hold Tony tighter, too tight. Ty had come too damn close to closing Tony’s eyes for good. “It’s probably good I didn’t go with you. I don’t know that my wolf wouldn’t jump across a courtroom and rip his throat out.”

Tony hummed and rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “Yeah, probably for the best that didn’t happen,” he agreed, but he sounded like he might not have minded that anyway.

Nice to have two working hands again; he unfastened the top button of Tony’s dress shirt. Slightly disheveled Tony was one of his favorite looks. Rumpled, tired, hair sticking up in all directions. Almost as sexy as workshop Tony with grease on his cheek and that manic sixteen cups of coffee energy about him. “Any unexpected questions come up? Let me put you t’ bed and you can tell me all about it?”

“Or,” Tony said with a hint of a wicked smile, “you can take me to bed and we can forget all about it for a while.”

“Can I?” Bucky nuzzled at the exposed skin just under Tony’s collar, blowing cool air against his neck. “Hmmm?” That would be nice. Injury induced celibacy was understandable, and Bucky wasn’t really _interested_ when he was a wolf, but some intimacy to go with their rather sudden declarations would be nice. Cement the moment, so to speak.

“I think so,” Tony said. “Last check, the doc said I’m healing nicely. I’ll have to stay upright or on my back and we should probably avoid anything too athletic, but if you don’t mind doing a little more of the work, I’m pretty sure we can make it happen.”

“What are you talkin’ about,” Bucky said, nudging him playfully. “I always do all the work. You jus’ lay back an’ enjoy it.” That was such a lie; Tony was athletic as hell, both in and out of the bedroom.

Tony laughed. “Well, I must be doing _something_ right,” he said. “I managed to bag you, after all.” He slipped out of Bucky’s arms and headed toward the bedroom, his good arm already busy at his shirt buttons. He glanced back over his shoulder and caught Bucky staring in unbridled appreciation of his ass. “Coming?”

“Gimme a minute,” he said, “I ain’t even breathin’ hard yet.” But oh, god, that ass. Bucky tugged his tee off and left it on the floor in the living room, already chasing Tony back toward the bedroom.

Uninjured, Tony probably would have gotten tossed on the bed so Bucky could pounce. Instead, Bucky curled around Tony’s back and nipped at his ear, rubbed against Tony’s body, feeling his heartbeat, listening to the sound of his breathing.

Tony hummed happily and leaned back against Bucky’s chest, twisting a little and tipping his head back to offer Bucky his mouth. His good arm lifted, fingers twisting into Bucky’s hair, and he rolled his hips in teasing circles, pushing that gorgeous ass up against Bucky’s groin.

“You are s’ damn tempting,” Bucky said. He captured Tony’s mouth, kissing him, sloppy and hot and eager, and finally turning him around so he could get a better angle, tongue slipping into Tony’s mouth, licking at the inside of his cheek, teasing at the sensitive join of Tony’s lips. That little tickle of Tony’s facial hair, scraping at Bucky’s chin, at his lip, was divine. He cupped his hand on Tony’s jaw, sliding back until his thumb was against Tony’s ear, holding him captive, keeping that slick, sweet mouth just where Bucky wanted it.

Tony melted against him, skin to skin where Tony’s shirt hung open, and surrendered his mouth to Bucky’s exploration. By the time Bucky pulled away, he was breathing hard, eyes closed and lips swollen. His cock was a hard line in the hollow of Bucky’s hip, even through their pants. “All yours,” he breathed, and his eyes fluttered open to examine Bucky’s face.

_All his._ Bucky shivered at the thought; he’d been Tony’s, belonged utterly to Tony, perhaps from the very first moment they’d met, before Tony knew anything about Bucky. “As long as you want me.” Bucky brushed a thumb over Tony’s bottom lip, so pink and perfect. He traced the line down his chin, that perfect throat. Tipped Tony’s head back and licked over the artery, feeling the pulse beneath the skin. “Mine,” he growled against Tony’s throat, then nipped him there, sucking at the tender skin. He pulled back to admire the pink mark; it would fade soon enough, probably before Tony had to go to a business meeting looking like he’d had dealings with a fangless vampire or something.

“Yours,” Tony agreed readily. “And you’re mine.” He resumed unbuttoning his shirt, only slightly slowed by only having one hand for the task. “What are you going to do about it?”

Bucky followed Tony’s hand down, kissing the exposed skin, then drew back a little to watch Tony, like a strip tease without the music, each button undone fanning his desire a little higher. “Thought I might get on my knees and suck your dick until your thighs are quiverin’ and you can hardly stand up.”

Tony’s breath left his mouth in a little puff of a moan. “Won’t take long, if you keep talking like that.” He kept his eyes on Bucky as he finished with his shirt, then lifted his hand to brush over Bucky’s lip. “Not long at all.”

Bucky tugged at Tony’s belt, sliding it out of the buckle and opened the front of his trousers. He caught Tony’s gaze and kept eye contact the whole time as he slid down. “Leave it,” he said, when Tony went to take his shirt off. “I love it when you look all rumpled up, like someone just seduced you in a broom closet.” He mouthed at the front of Tony’s trousers, flicking the zipper tang with his tongue.

Tony shuddered under Bucky’s hands, and slipped his fingers into Bucky’s hair, stroking and petting. “You like me looking like _you_ rumpled me up,” he corrected, smiling.

“You find a convenient broom closet, you jus’ let me know,” Bucky said. It would be nice, Bucky thought, now that he could go with Tony to those fancy dress parties and galas, could nudge him into a dark corner and… do everything that he intended to demonstrate _right now_.

Bucky dipped a little lower, tugged at Tony’s pants just below the knee until they slid off his hips. “Want ever’one who sees you t’ know you an’ I belong together,” he said. He teased a hand up the inside of Tony’s thigh, lightly brushing the skin there, warm and soft. Tony spread his legs a little, hampered by his slacks, and Bucky planted a kiss on his belly, tongued the groove at his hip. The material of Tony’s boxers was slick, slippery, a shiny satin number that didn’t disturb the lines of his trousers. It was also remarkably soft to the touch, and made teasing Tony a delight. His fingers skated across it, brushing lightly over Tony’s balls and up the length of his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“God, yes,” Tony breathed, swaying into it, chasing sensation. “You always make me feel so good.” He was biting his lip, pupils wide and dark as he watched Bucky.

Well, that was delicious, Bucky decided. He peeled down Tony’s drawers, that cock hard and proud and curved just a little to the left. Bucky nosed at it, feeling the heat of it against his cheek, skin smooth and supple. “Show me,” he said. “Touch yourself where you want my mouth. Wanna know just where you like it, just exactly where you want my tongue. Go on, then.”

Tony groaned as if just the thought made him hotter. He let go of Bucky’s hair to trace his fingers lightly up his cock, circling the head a few times before closing his hand over it and sliding it slowly down, a soft, pulsing tease that made his mouth fall open and his eyelids flutter. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, his hand working, thumb swiping from side to side.

Catching Tony’s hand, Bucky made love to Tony’s fingers first, sucking them, let his teeth scrape over the pad, tonguing the webbing between the digits. After Tony’s fingers were nice and wet, he slid Tony’s hand up, until his fingers were over that perfect, pink nipple, just the same shade as Tony’s lip, gorgeous and plump.

Gently, he licked at the head of Tony’s cock, circling the head, licking along the ridge. Around, and around, using just the tip of his tongue, the barest hint of his lip.

“Oh, god.” Tony’s voice shook, even as he plucked at his nipple, tugging on the skin until it was swollen and peaked, twisting the little nub. “God, Bucky, _yes_.”

It was hard to follow the exact line of what Tony had done, but Bucky figured he was doing well enough when Tony started whining. He mouthed over the head of Tony’s cock, tonguing at the slit, closing his mouth to suck lightly. Down the shaft, he lipped it like it was a harmonica and he was playing the blues, soft and slick and quick, up and down.

Tony whined again, and his hips rocked involuntarily. “More,” he begged. “Please...” He stroked his thumb down Bucky’s cheek, across Bucky’s lips where they met Tony’s skin.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, pulling off with a slurp and a lick at the crown, just enough to get Tony to make that eager, whining moan. “Yeah, more sounds, sounds perfect.” He unbuttoned his jeans and shook himself out of them, getting one shoe trapped in the leg, because he was just suave like that, ignoring it when Tony snorted. “Here, lemme help you with that.” He gave Tony a hand with undressing. Not that Tony couldn’t do it, even short a hand, but it was slower and caused him pain, and Bucky didn’t want that. “You wanna, uh, lay on your side, on your good arm, an’ I’ll spoon you? That might work, keepin’ your weight off that injury.”

“Yeah, that sounds... that sounds good.” Tony sat on the bed and arranged himself, carefully positioning his arm so it wouldn’t be jostled too much. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

Tony lounging there on the bed like he was posing for someone to paint him was so erotic, so very carnal, that it took Bucky’s breath away and he had to stand there, dumbfounded, to stare. How the hell had he gotten so fortunate? A curse that was supposed to torture him before it ended his life had turned into something entirely different.

A place to belong, a home, friends, and oh, god, Tony, who loved him, who earnestly, completely returned Bucky’s feeling…

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bucky said, eyes drinking in the sight as Tony’s mouth widened in a delighted smile, the one that lit up his whole face. “Love you, so much.”

He couldn’t resist the lure of Tony’s body anymore, and crawled onto the bed after him, snagging the little bottle of lube on his way over. Bucky plastered himself against Tony’s back, touching as much of that olive skin as he could reach, shoulder and neck, chest, perking at each nipple, down Tony’s belly and over his hip, that smooth, round curve of his ass.

Tony responded to each touch so beautifully, pressing himself into Bucky’s hands, back arching and hips rolling. He moaned and sighed and gasped by turns, panting out praise and curses and Bucky’s name and soft, breathless little “love you”s. Laying on his good arm meant he couldn’t really touch Bucky in turn, though he stroked his hand down Bucky’s arm whenever he could reach it.

Bucky got his fingers slicked up, and, because Tony was so sweet and so responsive, and Bucky was, honestly, still kinda an asshole, he rubbed those slick fingers over Tony’s cock, stroking him until Tony was rocking into it, moaning. Bucky knew his lover’s tells, tugged and fondled him nearly to the point where he was gasping with the need to come.

At which point, Bucky wet his fingers again and started the torturous process of opening Tony up. Slowly. Taking entirely more effort, time, and caution that Tony wanted in a normal lovemaking session. Circling and teasing at the opening to Tony’s body, sliding a finger along the rim, just barely breaching before going back to teasing. Knowing that Tony couldn’t do much for relief, either; his arm wasn’t supporting the range of motion that jerking off required. “I got you, Tony, I got you.”

Tony whined and shuddered at each gentle touch, begging beautifully. “Oh god, Bucky, f-fuck, please, I need--” He shivered and tried to push back into Bucky’s touch. “ _Please_...”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin at Tony’s need, couldn’t help but give a fond and entirely unremorseful chuckle at it. Tony’s desire for Bucky was like a drug, something he couldn’t possibly get enough of. Tony… accepted and wanted Bucky for everything that he was, it wasn’t like Tony was painting over the nasty parts and calling it good. He knew… he knew everything, and still wanted, still needed. It was heady as hell.

But Bucky had his own needs and the way Tony was writhing against him was making those needs a little more obvious. “I’ll take you there, babe, don’t fret,” Bucky told him. He used his teeth on the little foil wrapper -- uck, spermicide -- and wrapped himself up. Slicked his fingers again and breached, opening Tony up. He was already so aroused and needy that it didn’t take long until Bucky had two and was stimulating that little gland inside. “Here, I got-- just like that,” he said, gently tugging Tony’s leg up until it was hooked over Bucky’s hip.

The angle was a little awkward at first, and Bucky had to shift around a few times to get them both arranged, but then it was good, easy and deep and steady. The position didn’t really allow for rapid thrusting, either, so he could rock, slow and powerful, winding Tony -- and himself -- up by inches. It was perfect.

Tony wriggled around at first, trying to push Bucky to move harder, faster, and then seemed to settle into a rhythm, rocking along with Bucky’s slow thrusts. His breath came out in harsh whines, halfway to sobbing with need. “So good, so damn good, oh... God, yes, like that, you’re so perfect, god, yes, yes, I love you...”

Felt like hours, that slow, steady increase, a tiny fire building and building until it raged, burning everything in its path. He got one arm under Tony, pulling Tony tight against his chest, the other on Tony’s leg, fingers gripping at that firm thigh. Tony was dribbling precome, almost a steady stream of it that puddled and pooled on the sheets, making a delicious mess. Tony was tight and slick and hot, clenching sporadically around Bucky’s dick.

Everything in Bucky tightened, quivered, hundreds of muscles tensing up, impossibly tight, impossibly _right_. He shifted his arm, used his elbow to push Tony’s legs even wider, splayed and vulnerable, so he could get a hand on Tony’s cock and stroke him in time with those easy, rolling thrusts.

“ _God_ , Tony…”

Tony’s breath caught, stuttered, and then ripped out of him in a wail as his whole body tensed in Bucky’s arms, shuddering and jerking as he came, his cock pulsing in Bucky’s grip through wave after wave of his climax, until he sagged limply, panting for air, still shivering with aftershocks.

Watching Tony, feeling Tony, listening to Tony under him, was so blissful, was so much of everything that Bucky ever wanted, that despite everything, his own orgasm took him utterly by surprise. Tony clenched and cried out, and Bucky was trying to go easy, to fuck Tony through the entire thing, making it last and last and last--

And then Bucky was falling, the sensation like a beautiful swoop and dive, stomach tightening, thighs shaking, mouth dropping open and absolute babble of nonsense, swear words and endearments and praise and love falling out like raindrops. Everything went white behind his eyelids and his teeth bit into his bottom lip as he strained.

“Oh, god, oh, my god,” Bucky managed, and then he was panting against Tony’s neck as every cell in his body flooded with feel-good hormones. “ _Christ_.”

“Yeah,” Tony managed, leaning back against Bucky’s bulk. “Yeah, that. God, I love you.”


	24. Chapter 24

It turned out that it didn’t matter just _how_ good your lawyers were: if you started screaming threats at your victim in the middle of the courtroom, neither the jury nor the judge were particularly inclined to be lenient. When they handed Ty’s sentence down, Tony was sitting with the rest of the court spectators, Bucky at his side.

Tony’s own legal team had told him that a guilty charge would get them at least seven years, if the jury decided he should serve concurrent terms; attempted murder with a firearm, plus all the miscellaneous damage and wounded bystanders. Seven years was the _minimum_ , Tony reminded himself.

But when the spokesman for the jury handed off their verdict -- guilty on all counts -- Tiberius started to cry.

“With your obvious lack of remorse, and disregard for the lives of others, it is the jury’s recommendation that you serve the maximum penalty for each charge, served consecutively. I am inclined to agree with their recommendation, for a term of no less than twenty-eight years, with parole to be withheld for a term of at least twenty of those years.”

Bucky heaved a sigh and rested his head against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony took Bucky’s hand in his and squeezed tightly, relief flooding through him. “Oh, thank God,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Seven years would not have been enough.”

Ty was removed from the courtroom by the bailiffs and his lawyer was talking urgently to him. There would be motions and calls for mistrials and all the rest of the legal bullshit that tended to happen around high profile cases when there was a lot of money involved. Ty might even be able to get his sentence cut, but Tony’s team would keep them informed, and it was doubtful that Tony himself would need to stand up in a courtroom again. At least for this.

Bucky had done his part, too, testifying to the notes and photographs that had been taken, the fear and oppression that had gone along with dating someone who had a stalker. Even his wolf had come in once, although as evidence, not as a witness. Bucky had been mostly well behaved during that day, even if he had stared death at Ty the entire time.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Pepper said, gathering up her things and pulling on a light sweater. The courtroom had been entirely too warm, but the weather was just starting to turn. There was something ironic, or perhaps poetic, about the fact that the trial ended one day before Tony and Bucky’s anniversary.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. He stood up, keeping his fingers laced with Bucky’s. “What next? Dinner to celebrate?”

“Food is good,” Bucky said, not surprisingly. Tony’s boyfriend was almost always hungry, particularly in the days leading up to the full moon.

Of course, first they had to run the gauntlet of reporters who all wanted a statement. Pepper had given him a few prepared remarks, but Tony ignored them, as always. Two questions, he decided, he’d take two questions.

“Mr. Stark,” one guy asked, “do you ever feel that, with the expectations of a longer term relationship, Tiberius Stone’s disappointment, and his subsequent violent outburst, might be your fault?”

“I’m pretty sure the act of breaking up with him cleared me of all responsibility for his delusions,” Tony said. “Disappointment is understandable. I mean, just look at me. But most people just eat a pint of ice cream, maybe tear up all the old photos, and call it done, so I’m pretty sure the rest of his actions rest entirely on his own head.”

“Now-- Mr. Stark, over here,” another reporter was waving, almost lost in a sea of taller people and cameras and video recorders. “Do you think-- do you think Mr. Stone’s sentence was all the greater because he had the gall to shoot your service dog?”

“It certainly didn’t do him any favors,” Tony said. “Everyone loves a good loyal dog story, right? But I’m sure the jury based its recommendation on the facts of the case, just the way they’re supposed to do.” He held up a hand as the rest of them burst into more questions. “Now, if you’ll all excuse us.”

They didn’t want to, of course. The press and reporters and gossips never did; they were like vacuum cleaners, always looking for the dirt, but Bucky took his role as protector seriously, even when he wasn’t in his wolf, and he had broad shoulders, a murder strut that cleared a path, and a resting bitch face that brooked very little nonsense. When he was inclined to use them all, people usually got the hell out of their way.

It was probably wrong of Tony to find all of that attractive, but he did, and he wasn’t about to deny it, just following along in Bucky’s wake before it collapsed behind him. He ushered Tony into the limo Happy had waiting.

“Mr. Stark--” That voice was oddly familiar, but Tony couldn’t quite place it. “Mr. Stark-- I don’t know if you remember me.”

But Bucky had that secret little smile on his face as he gestured. _Go on, talk to her._

“Hi, I’m, well, like I said, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Daisy, I work at Happy Homes Pet Shelter, and we just… wanted to let you know how _happy_ we are that everything worked out for you and for Bucky.”

Bucky shook his head, amused. No one actually called him Bucky in public, except his old agency buddy, Steve. Tony and Pepper and the other few people in the know called him James, or sometimes Jamie.

“Of course I remember you!” Tony reached out to pat Daisy’s shoulder. “And thank you. Bucky’s doing really well. I’ll have to bring him by sometime so you can see. I’m sure he’ll remember you fondly.” He turned to the hovering cameras and grinned. “I can highly recommend getting your pet from your local shelter,” he told them.

“Well, if you could give him these--” She held up a bag, marked with the shelter’s name. “--from all of us, and let him know he’s such a good boy, we’d be grateful. And you, too. You’re a hero, too, for giving a shelter dog a forever home.”

Tony took the bag and handed it off to Bucky. “I think it’s just as accurate to say that I found my forever home with him.”

That seemed like a good line to close on, and Tony gently shut the door, letting Happy maneuver around the crowd. Bucky was already opening the bag curiously. He uttered a bark of laughter and pulled out a few packages of dog snacks; jerky and bone-shaped nuggets and rawhide chews.

“Nice,” he said, putting the bag on the floor. “I’ll appreciate it more in a few days.” He scooted around on the long bench seat and laid down, resting his head on Tony’s thigh. “Tonight, I want a rare steak and one of those deep fried onion things and cheesecake.” He gazed up at Tony, that sappy, loving expression on his face. “You’re my forever home, too, you know.”


End file.
